I have no need

For feeble tinfoil knights

With colossal swords that surely compensate for

Courage.

No desire to weigh down

my thoughts with what glitters

So one may flounder and screech -

-Eureka!

I have long tired

of dainty toes being pulverised

So feet may be pinched into

Cruel glass slippers.

Or being draped in silks

To look pleasant in parlours

For goodness' sake!

I am not

A curtain rod.

Absolutely sick

Of wails and distress

I am no longer a damsel

So make me a

Queen.

So make me wicked

With spells and enchantments

If it would loosen these corset strings

My hangman's noose.

My face would not object

To my absent darling ski-jump

Constantly plagued with these revolting roses, roses, roses

So slice it off

If you wish,

If you dare

To spite

Me.

For this,

Does not end like a

Fairytale.

For you see,

I'd rather not end

At

All.