Something's wrong, but I can't explain,
Bitter, salty... petty pain.
I hate him so much, though I wear the crown,
I'm the queen-I can't let my people down.
I breathe deep, my thoughts start to spin,
Darker and deeper, swirling within.
These thoughts don't belong in a queen's mind,
Wishing someone's downfall, it's unkind.
If my people could see what's inside of me,
They'd never forgive what they couldn't unsee.
Well, maybe except for just one,
The one who knows when the darkness has won.
Weariness settles as I walk through town,
Faces look concerned as they glance around.
I don't want to talk-not here, not now-
They let me be, understanding somehow.
I hurry along, through the woods, past trees,
My knees hit the earth as I crouch on my knees.
Three knocks on the hatch that hides underground-
"Braaanch," I call, "I need you around."
The hatch creaks open with a curious groan,
His face appears, my worries half-flown.
"Poppy?" he asks, stepping aside,
His smile softens the ache I hide.
"Everything okay? Wanna come in?"
I nod, though I can't seem to begin.
I step on the lift, descending down,
Into the bunker where worries drown.
"I need to talk," I whisper low,
"I know you won't judge what I have to show."
Branch smirks, placing a finger on his lips,
"Oh? A secret?" His playful tone dips.
I chuckle despite the weight in my chest,
"Yeah, a secret," I confess.
The lift reaches the floor, calm and still,
And somehow, with Branch, I feel a small thrill.
He hops over to the shelf nearby,
Pulling down a puzzle with a focused eye.
"Wanna do a puzzle while we chat?
Might help ease where your mind is at."
I sit on the floor, cross-legged and worn,
"Sure," I say, feeling a little torn.
As we sort through the pieces, the silence is kind,
Branch lets the words come when I unwind.
"So," he starts, not looking at me,
"What's on your mind? What's setting you free?"
I hesitate, staring at pieces astray,
"You ever feel anger that won't go away?"
"Ha! Duh," he says with a casual glance,
But he doesn't push, just gives me a chance.
"It's Creek," I murmur, the name tasting sour,
"I see him and my mood turns dour."
Branch nods, quietly sorting his stack,
"What'd he do now? Another sneak attack?"
"No, it's worse," I say, clenching my fist,
"He walks around like he doesn't exist."
"Like he never betrayed me or the world,
Like he didn't hurt us, like nothing unfurled."
My frustration builds as I slap the ground,
"He's so smug, acting so sound!"
Branch looks up, surprise in his eye,
"Wow, Poppy, I've never heard you cry
Out in anger, or curse like that.
You're really upset, where's your head at?"
I slump over the puzzle, a mess inside,
"I hate feeling this way-can't I let it slide?"
Branch places a piece without any fuss,
"You're holding on to emotions you need to discuss."
"I don't know how," I say, voice tight,
"What should I do to feel alright?"
Branch glances up with a thoughtful gaze,
"What helps you express yourself these days?"
"Scrapbooks," I answer, unsure of myself,
But Branch shakes his head, placing it on the shelf.
"Scrapbooks are neat, they organize well,
But expression's a thing you need to expel."
"Then what?" I ask, frustrated and lost,
Willing to try, no matter the cost.
Branch leans in with a familiar gleam,
"I sing when I'm angry-helps me beam."
"Sing?" I ask, unsure of his way,
He nods, knowing just what to say.
"Yeah, sing it out loud, let yourself feel,
Singing helps me, and it's always real."
