I used to be normal once
I used to run along the hallways of the grand house
And skip and scamper and whittle my time away
I used to comb my hair back with the delicate tips of mother’s pearl embroidered comb
And watch the tangles of my raucous blond hair fade slowly back
I used to eat rhubarb pie as it came freshly out of the oven
And lick the crumbs off of my fingers
Savoring the rich, warm gooey ooziness.
Now the ending of that story
Is the beginning of this story.
And where should I begin?
Now I am locked away in a tower,
With only myself to keep company.
The hero awaits
My long locks of hair
Cascading out the window
To make his climb up.
In this story both the hero and the heroine
Await their fate
They are both stuck
And locked in the tower.
Until one day
That fateful and
When I was cast out of the tower
And went in search of something else.
I wandered in the desert
To try and claim my prize
There were mirages and images of things
Once forgotten and put away
And seen again.
But they were a trick
They weren’t real
And so I stumbled and sputtered
My throat a dry and parched parchment
Gasping for air and for water.