Fool

So you're waiting for a hero?
To come and sweep you off
your unsteady feet
and weak knees.

While you cry on your side,
holding the chipping
gold tiara
and the birds by your window
will ask you what's wrong.

You say you can't find
your emerald shoes
and your lips are cracked
from all your biting.
And the thorns outside
are starting to break in.

And the butterflies
are mocking you
for even they've found
their freedom to fly.
And the mirror shards
on the floor
stare back at you
to show you all your lies.

The world you claim
has to no time to
save princesses anymore.
The world's changed.

But the clock is ticking
and chiming,
and laughing.
Because the world
has always stayed the same.

The crown is black under
the cheap paint, it seems.
And your fits at night
is showing in your knees.

The birds look back,
and blink in surprise
Your problems they say,
seem foolish
in their eyes.

Because maybe if you had used
the years trying
to escape the world
of false luxury
you created,
you'd have known
the life outside
that waited.

And heroes are harder
to wait for
when they don't know
who they're saving.
But you'll tell yourself.
Only because
they're not looking.

So you're lost,
waiting for nothing.
But you'll stay,
living for this dream.
Live on paint and rust,
because your silk dress is ripping.
and you'll cry for nothing,
until all your tears are gone.