Trapped

They gave me a name and started writing my story.
I was give girly characteristics and made to be a boy's dream girl.

Blonde hair, blue eyes, slim waist, medium sized thighs, big butt, big boobs, and no tattoos.
They wrote me into a perfect fairy tale.

Made me say "Someday my prince will come."
I was forced to be something I'm not.

No, I don't want a prince, I want a princess and can she please be chocolate and not vanilla?
Because apparently that's the only thing that artist can draw.

And stop trying to feed me stuff from Starbucks and Chick-Fil-A!
Did I say that this was all I like to eat?

Can I have a voice?
Can I choose what I want to be?

This poem is about: 
Our world

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