There's no need to drag on, fly

I'm underqualified for a life of direction. Despite the gazes, the awes, the sonnets and the songs, truly at my core, I despise what I see flying in the glass reflection.

The daunting manner of which my off centered eyes gaze upon my own flesh and wings sickens me. For what am I if nothing but a hybrid? A lost cause to nature herself? Nothing but a malfunction, a mistake.

For am I a dragon, or a fly? 

I could race with the brethren who raised me, counting the minutes from our first breath to our last in the matter of an hour. I wouldn't have cared, life is sacred the shorter it gets. At least I would find solace in an identity.

Or, I could've been blessed with the perfect beauty of stronger winds against my bare wings. The only relation that can soothe me is the missing piece on my underbelly. The flames I could create, nothing would fear me, and I would fear nothing. I could never live a life of peace but I would be effortlessly, undoubtedly, beautiful.

But this? Stuck in a mix of two different worlds, never knowing which one I will truly be more like? It's too much to bare.

It was on that faithful day, it was as if a rock had fallen directly on top of my head from the clear sky, which is a likely story, it's happened unfortunately too many times.

A witch greeted me with a sickened smile and drapes for a cloak, and her finger perched into the air. I flew down, my eager ears listening to her dark and twisted breaths.

"You may only pick one."

She was giving me a choice. A choice! But... What should I chose? Where does my happiness reside? Soaring with the dragons, or life fulfilled with the ones I so love and desire?

"I've decided," I replied, as a fly, with a booger in my eye. The witch gave a deepened and sadistic laugh before disappearing back into the shadows.

And I, Garry the once Dragonfly, has fit into my bones, and shredded my shell of my former life.