Hybrid Queen (Under Construction)

Regret her now and Want her later

Chapter 8 *Anca POV*

“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.”

― Ralph Waldo Emerson

Dream:

Everyone experience pain. Everybody has gotten abused once in a while or not at all. But Emotional pain is the easiest and it can kill you. The one that would leave a grown man crying because his love just died. A pain  that will burn your heart and cripple you. A pain that makes you want to sleep and never want to wake up ever again. A pain that leaves tears in your eyes. Not everyone can experience it. Not everyone can deal with it. The strongest people cry. The strongest people don’t hide the pain from the outside world. The week ones that bullies others for being strong. The weak ones can’t handle the pain. I Anca Stella of the Deadly Hallows am one of thoses people who are strong and willing to cry. Knowing that the one you’re supposed to marry finds their “True Mate” when you already reject them. I need Ivy as my mate without her I am useless and I’m slowly dying.. I need her and I will have her.

Reality:

On my way to school all I could think about was that dream and Ivy. I knew Kiara and Akasha was somewhere doing something that I didn’t care. I saw Ivy through the halls talking to Raven but it seem she was fighting with what's MINES. Breath in and breath out you will have her in the end. Why did I reject her for Akasha? That was my only mistake being in precalculus 1st period was the death of me. I just wanted to get to see the love of my life. When class passed by I was glad to get to English because I knew Ivy would be there. It been a week since I rejected Ivy and I wanted her now. Today we were supposed to read a poem that we either wrote or took from a famous poet. Ivy was first and I knew that these poems were directed to me. As she spoke every word hit me the hardest.

Rejection doesn’t lead me to dejection

But to inspiration via irritation

Or at least to a bit of naughty new year wit-

Oh isn’t it a shame my poetry’s not tame

Like Rupert’s or Jay’s - I never could

Get into their STRIDE just too much pride

To lick the arses of the poetry-of-earthers

Or the sad lady who runs KATABASIS from the back

Of a bike, gets shouted at by rude parkies

And writing huffy poems to prove it...

Oh to be acceptable and

IN THE POETRY REVIEW

Like Lavinia or Jo

With double spreads

And a glossy colour photo

Instead I’m stuck in a bus queue at Morden

London’s meridian point of zero imagination

Actually it’s a bit like ACUMEN with the Oxleys

Boasting about their 150,000 annual submissions-

If what they print’s the best God help the rest...)

At least my Christmas post had - instead of a card

From Jeremy Reed - his ELEGY FOR DAVID GASCOYNE -

The best poem I’ve had by post in forty years

And Jeremy’s best to date in my estimate -

The English APOLLINAIRE - your ZONE, your SONG