When a Princess becomes a Queen

Location

6661 Pepperidge Way
United States

When I was young everyone around me called me a princess.

I wore the dresses, I had a kingdom, I was loved,

but most of all I waited for a prince to come.

Every story had a prince that would come and slay the dragon and save the princess.

I waited paitently and diligently as a princess should, I waited as the king and queen had separated kingdoms,

I waited as my knight had died in battle, I waited as the demons lurked in the back of my mind,

I even waited as I screamed a helpless plea in the night.

I wondered if I wasnt a fit enough to be a princess?

I did not look like them in my books, they were pale, blonde, and very pretty.

I too was once pretty but I forgotten that time.

Afraid of what I was going to see, I turned away from the mirrors as they spoke too many words I didnt want to hear.

I learned how to put on a pretty mask and play with my brushes to conceal, pluck and remove and signs of blemish and aging

No prince wants a defective princess.

I waited for so long that I lost myself and would be glad just to have a prince of my own.

I didnt find a prince but I found demon disguised as one. I loved him and the lies he told me.

He told me I was beautiful and the only thing he ever needed. He would give me the world in return for my soul.

I didnt hesitate, true to his world he gave a world full of disillussions and euphoria.

It was painful, I was a servant to his fake love but I loved having a prince more, even if he was fake.

I eventually escaped from the tight clutches and stumbled upon a mirror. I saw I grew old with eyes that would have put waterfalls to shame and

cheeks that were once round and soft became rough and skin with scars that showcased my every imperfection.

As I gaze upon myself in hatred, I saw my crown rusted and cracked and held it high.

After of being tired of a war upon myself, I became complacent with my body.

Overtime I grew from a weak broken princess to a regal Queen who doesnt have time to wait any longer for a prince and saved myself.

The journey to become a Queen is hard and not always a happily ever after.

Even today, A Queen sometimes needs to cry.
 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741