The armor was a masterpiece, forged in silent tears, A heavy suit of iron built from childhood’s jagged fears. To walk the world meant hiding the kaleidoscope within, A mosaic of a silver fox trapped underneath the skin. The boy, the girl, the in-between, the rushing, rapid thought, All bound and gagged by social lines they never should have bought. They learned to fear the open air, they learned to fear the sun, An aroace heart convinced that it could never beat for one. The neurodivergent static hummed, a restless, heavy storm, As they contorted everything just trying to conform. It takes a toll to be a ghost, to fade into the gray, To lock the shifting spirit up and throw the key away. But then the forest parted, and the shadows finally broke, Revealing one who listened to the truth before they spoke. She didn't bring a cage of gold, she didn't bring a chain, She simply brought a quiet space, a shelter from the rain. She saw the shifting currents, all the pronouns, she and they, And didn't try to dam the stream or force the tide to stay. For the first time in a lifetime, the silver fox can breathe, And shed the heavy, iron skin they used to wear beneath. The tamer doesn't have to fight, the aching mind can slow, Because they found the only pack they ever need to know. A quiet kind of magic where the broken pieces mend, Found in the fierce, unyielding love of an eternal friend.
