When the fairytale dies
There was a girl once, who knew nothing of happiness, who stared at walls and mouthed unintelligible things. She was lost, in every way one can be and she hated herself for ever thinking she could have her magic carpet ride. Her mind lived in castles and clouds, while her body rotted in dungeons and dirt. Nothing made her happy because dreamers never are. Look now and see her...dying on the less than enchanted forest floor.
Her eyes are gone, bloody, rotting holes now. They've left her, traveled leagues to set their gaze on happily ever after, watching, waiting hopelessly from a distance.
Her lips have vanished; making their way to the kisses of a prince who knows them not and never will.
Her ears have fled to seek the perfect pitch of a lovers' sweet chorus. But that pitch is lost in the wind.
She will lie in the forest forevermore, rotting and toiling her little heart into the black dirt she lies upon. She'll bury the hope, dreams, ambition, devotion, lust, heartache, pain and endless sorrow until she can only feel the itch of their roots.
She knows now what a fool she's been; what an idiot she was as she waited for her glass slippers and kissable ruby red lips. She knows that the present she guarded so closely waits for no one. Most of all she knows she cast herself in the wrong reality.
For she was the geek. She was the pious. She was the devoted. She was the naive. This girl let her hope take any real life away. This girl will be mocked for eternity for ever thinking she could live her own happily ever after.