it was once possible
to be a parrot who was a doctor
who sang in a choir of angels
who saved the world from villains
with ridiculously evil funny names.
it was easy to speak of wants-
a pair of shoes with lights
and a glow in dark radium cello tape
and an army uniform and cream rolls
and a tiara with anything that shines
and the cards i don’t know how to play
once i used to be simple.
i left my sleep
to live like the guy
who runs for hundred years
to rescue the princess.
waiting to reach
a blurry 8-bit princess
that never shows up at any castle
of my world
was not a source of
disappointment (or depression) then.
There is only this life,
that is made by imitation of stories.
Stories that told me
how to feel
and what to say,
told me to cry and ruin myself
if you turn away,
told me to leave my everything for your sake,
never told me how tedious all this could become
and how much frustrating it would be
to have a love that doesn’t give me back
all that I was guaranteed to get.
What to do if I am no gentle virtuous princess
or even a woman of strong heart and character
but a person not even worth a mention, let alone a heart.
What to do when I am indistinguishable from the gray crowd,
when I am not so special and not so deserving of all that I want.
What to do when my clocks have stopped in that one moment
that I let myself down
and every kind lover is separated from me
by this distance in time.
The Dragon made her the princess, which the world wanted to save. No harm, no mistreatment. The Dragon treated her like a fellow companion. Without the fear of being chained or tortured or give up on her dreams. She lived with her Dragon in their desolate castle. Away from mankind. Away from hypocrisy. The days of Dragon were done. The Prince came. Slayed the dragon. Taken by the Prince, she was enslaved again. “I don’t want to go”, she cried. She ran. He caught her by hair and started beating her. Dragged her into the court. A chivalrous act it was called. The kingdom celebrated their prince’s victory. Stories were written “Saving the Princess”. Or so they were called. But not once did they ask her, “Who saved you?”.
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