bird bones capitulated to comfort
food when she didn't get the warmth
she needed. blue glass eyes dulled to
marbles, unused, beautiful enough
only to attract dust. the tinkling bells
of her laughter- what a cliché laugh-
rusted over before it could escape her
down turned lips. rusted into copper cries.

broken hearts grow bitter.
she wants. she wants fantasy, badly enough
she misses it. misses fairy tales. they
tell her to grow up. instead of dreams
they pass down unworthiness and the
equation for hollow hips.

changeling child. Narcissus can't love
you, and you are his reflection.
instead they shove your mirror
down your throat, and you purge
the broken glass.

a/n: sorry if it's rough. i just needed to write it down.