Anthem For the Bug Killed on The Stump It Called Home

There’s this terrible thing.This terrible, awful thing between the layers of monster and man, all skin and bone and tongue that didn’t know how to speak until yesterday. He calls himself ‘it’, because it’s what he’d been described as. It, like a creature, it, like an omen, it, never like a he. Ask him why, and he’d sneer at you with those snaggle fangs and spin his starlit-stolen crown around a clawed finger and say, “I don’t deserve it, never earned it, never wanted it.”---Short prose dedicated to Oberon