I have no need

For feeble tinfoil knights

With colossal swords that surely compensate for


No desire to weigh down

my thoughts with what glitters

So one may flounder and screech -


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


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


For this,

Does not end like a


For you see,

I'd rather not end