An Open Letter to Snow White

Dear Snow,

You probably don't remember me.

I'm the last dwarf- Silence.

Doesn't really roll off the tongue like the others,

you know.

Now when my brothers first brought you home,

I was so excited to have

someone to call my sister. I've always

wanted one of those.

But as soon as I saw the look in their eyes,

I knew exactly what they were thinking.

A pretty girl means she's pretty nice

and if she's pretty nice, she's pretty trusting,

and if she's pretty trusting she's pretty easy-

to over power. 

I can still feel the ringing of

broken vocal cords head. I covered

my ears to drown out your screams. I so desperately

wanted to help and

yet

I froze.

Terrified that if I tried

anything,

I would be next.

Over the next few weeks, I watched

as you hid your sorrow in your work,

trying desperately to ignore

the unwanted markings that littered your arms,

but as we all know

the fairer the skin

the harder it is to hide the bruises.

I watched as you

scrubbed the floors

until your fingers

bled

red.

Red like anger.

Red like passion,

like lust,

like fury,

like...bravery.

Which you had so much more of

than I did. 

I listened to you cry.

I listened to you weep

until the willows gave up on their mourning

and took part in yours.

I watched as you

withered away into

nothing

more than a husk of the girl

I once knew. Watched as sorrow

craved its way into you as you

begged for your prince charming to come,

but no one listened.

This is not a fairy tale.

This is learning to kill a

mockingbird. And when I saw

the scars on your wrists, I knew the

end was near and yet

I

did

nothing.

Your story is flawed,

but you know this.

For the witch did not trick you.

Rather

you willing walked into death's embrace

because the thought of dying

was more bearable

than staying here

another

second.

So here I stand on

the anniversary

of your death.

I can't stay much longer.

The others will

be looking for me.

So,

high ho,

high ho,

I dearly miss you Snow.

High ho,

high ho,

I wish I'd told

them

no. 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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