(A song, as opposed to a poem. Inspired by Maggie Stiefvater's book, 'Ballad', and to be fitted to music some time later this week - hopefully! Nuala is one of the leanan sidhe, and every sixteen years must be burnt alive. She is reborn from the ashes, but she can't remember anything about her past life.)
1) I didn't work it out at first - took me years.
I sometimes wonder now why I didn't use my ears.
But I put up with all those snide, sarcastic leers -
Soon as I knew there was a limit to these years.
There's things I always knew would never ever be;
Things I sort of hoped one day I could see
But I should've always known it wouldn't be for me.
There's always things you know can never ever be.
2) I told them I could manage - told them I was fine.
Their sympathy was something that never should be mind.
My death always had been the fixed bottom line.
Once I knew that, it'd be a long time till I was fine.
3) Nothing could convince them - they wouldn't leave me there.
And though I acted grumpy, I walked as though on air.
Once I was aflame, my toenails to my hair,
It'd be a comfort to know that they were there.
4) Now we've come to the end of my short, sad tale,
The last letter from me you'll get through the mail.
In the cross of my short life a final rusty nail:
This is the very end of my short, sad tale.