O Sweet Sweet Prince

I'm sitting here looking pretty trapped in my tower waiting for you.

At least that's what you think, my sweet prince.

My long hair all golden and blonde awaiting your climb.

But if only you knew that the last thing I want is your muddy brown boots this close to my mind.

This box dye is too expensive for your shoes to make these tresses match my roots.

I'm tired of trying to look ultra feminine just for you.

I spend too much time trying to condition these split ends to be focused on how your whole visit depends.

If im not all done up in my dress, am I not pretty enough for you?

O sweet sweet prince, I surely do not need you.

Maybe one day I'll wrap my locks around this hook and climb down myself.

I might even hit up Cinderella or some other princess who is perfectly imperfect just like everybody else.

You should know sweet sweet prince, I don't need to be perfect to tell you you'll never find another princess like me.


This poem is about: 
Our world


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