Fluffy sparkling pink dresses,
Was my childhood,
Ridden with the ghostly pirate ship from my basement.
First memories of school,
Ridden with pain,
Flowing blood endlessly,
From the stab wound I took,
For being different.
I was the ugly Chinese girl,
None spoke of happiness,
Or the pretty girls,
With their Barbie dolls,
And false hair.
Never let me once play,
For I was the social scapegoat of the time.
Beautiful teacher you made me cry,
When you gave me,
My first treasure,
The story of Cinderella I never forgot.
For the yellowed pages are ridden with tear stains.
To be true to my misery,
And keep it hidden,
I locked myself within those pages,
Only to be free when,
I read from a book of lore.
The princesses always seemed to be suffering,
Just like me,
But they are not me,
For I live outside those books.
Although I did harbor a love,
To become that heroine,
I am still miserable to the fact ,
There is no hero.
I will never have that experience of,
Sparkling dances with gossamer gowns,
Bubbly champagne, velvet slippers,
And overwhelming happiness.
The only one who saves this lonesome princess,
creative property of Dawn (Wildcinderella)