she holds fast to a hope
that a hero will come by
and save her from her nightmares, herself.
she lives in a fairytale,
eyes closed against the world
and fingers scrabbling
for somebody to rescue who can save her.
she stands at her self-made impasse,
a fork in the road,
and offers a choice to those who find her.
no matter which they choose,
it ends the same:
both paths lead to the noose
and in her panic,
she finds herself as executioner.

this is not the life she wanted for herself,
but she’ll never tell you that.
her smile no longer remains.
the mask is gone,
revealing that confused rage she finds herself trapped within.
the wrath, that terrible drake
that she cannot yet bring herself to slay.

the reason it falls apart
is not due to anything but herself.
she has always craved love
and always dreamed of attention.
but when she finds herself
surrounded by it,
she runs.

maybe, someday,
she’ll learn to return that love, instead.

(even then,
she can’t do this by herself.

Lord Father, she’ll never ask
but she needs your help.) 

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