Princesses with long hairs and crowns on their heads,
wearing floor-touching nightgowns,
while being guarded in lavish mansions,
attending classic dance balls,
crossing paths with anticipated kings from certain kingdoms,
and ending up marrying one of them—
oh, the cliches of fairytales.
But if I was to believe in fairytales,
and the beauty in the stories;
if I was to avow my conviction toward the idea of a magic lamp
and the wishes it could fulfill;
I wouldn't ask to be a princess,
for I would rather be the evil queen.
The evil queen who hides under a black robe of insecurities, but seeks egoistical pleasures;
chases after an innocent heart, yet despises the power of true love;
building walls and destroying bridges as far as she could go—
because just like her,
if my happily ever after is never meant to deliver into my hands,
then nor should anyone else's be.
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