Collars

The noise was like a blanket. I stepped through the window and began to crawl. The polished stones were kept from me beneath the clear water that rushed passed my hands. I clenched my fist and pulled them closer, past that crystal barrier, but they turned to sand and crept through my fingers. Where was I to be if not here?

I found myself running, my lungs were cold from the evening air. I stopped at no villages along the way. I didn't want them to see my face. Still, I slept on the edge of town, huddled towards the earth, still warm from the soles of their feet. I covered myself in dirt, and painted my face with rotten berries. If approached I would scream, and shake the leaves around me.

Some days the beasts would pay me a visit. As I ran my hands across their backs their fur raced between my fingers. Occasionally a swift claw would break my skin. They knew I was mortal and cared not... and that's how I liked to keep it. When drops of blood fell from my body they licked up the clots. I ran wild, and reigned as king. Anything beautiful I chained to my throne, and tossed it bits of food they could not eat. Some days they cried, but I would stare over the tops of their heads. Only the sirens were allowed to dance with me.

And though I find my cradle in such lonely haunts... I still weep when I wake up to broken collars.

Explain to me that?