perhaps

And they sparkle, and they glimmer,
jewels adorning the neck of a princess,
cold cut and hard rock,
maybe they’re plastic,
because she likes her rings fake.

she likes pretending that she’s trapped,

maybe she’s me,

maybe i’m writing about myself
(passive aggressive-passive-passive-passive)

or maybe i’m writing about nobody,
maybe fairytales are just

mushrooms circling damp dirt,

maybe the princess never found the pea,
maybe i never found purpose.

on purpose.