Fairytales

Cinderella had a fairy godmother.
She wore a dress and had slippers made of glass.
She smiled through her tears.
She was not so real.
Sleeping Beauty had a curse,
put upon her when she was young.
She had a kingdom,
that slept for her; wasted their years for her.
There was a reason she was called a Beauty.
And so, she slept.
She was not so real.
Belle loved a Beast.
She was called Beauty, to match his gruesomeness
She saw a rose that counted time,
and found herself mesmerized by kitchen-counter magic.
She was not so real.
Ariel lived under the sea,
wishing for something more.
And once she found her wish,
she danced into the sunset,
the colours mixing into her smile.
She was not so real.
I know a girl,
who is a beauty,
a princess,
and gets her way.
I've known them all, for all my life,
and I watch in silent agony,
and, sometimes, delight.
I watch the knives dig farther into their backs,
and still they smile and smile and smile.
So inconsequential and yet they weave webs of pure distaste.
I know a girl who is not so real.
I know them all.
It's the boys who play the puppet-masters.
It's the men who seal the envelopes and send away truth, to be replaced with bull.
But who can blame the woman for wanting more.
Beauty, beauty, be mine.
Where's the prince who conquers all?
Honey, he's not here.
I wish this could be real.
Love and love and hate infects.
I never saw the truth.
I knew a girl who smiled at simple things,
and used to laugh out loud.
She is not so real,
in this game.