oh the evil dragon has left us all

--

with only the small dignity i dream,

i swear to make myself a better girl;

each treasured sweatshirt lacking perfect sleeves

i trade for dresses, lacey things, and pearls.

--

the comb ignored so often in the past

has been replaced by brushes, curlers, pins;

my lashes wear mascara and then last

i choose three shades and color in my lids.

--

i walk in pointed shoes so pretty now,

remember proper posture as i go;

i learn to curtsey, teach myself to bow,

as always my politeness i must show.

--

when addressing gentlemen i call them ‘sir,’

and daintily i let them take my hand;

i note the conversation though it blurs,

for structured types are always very bland.

--

no longer have i time for petty things,

like novels or such other wastes of time;

i haven’t patience or a song to sing

for girls who take their tea without a lime.

--

i know externally i bear a self,

and though i swore before to be this way,

sometimes i fear it all will end in hell,

and things that used to please me will be slain.

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