Opaque facade of happiness, painted by Mother's lying breath.
Nixed stories cover my ceiling, punctuated with Happily Ever After and never Death.
Caged birds calling to men like sirens, pretty voices luring them to devouring lips
Enchanting women acquainted with silence, tend to lose their grip
Ugly truth is Cinderella was depressed and a man can never save you just because he presents you with a shoe.
Pain is not the word to describe the feeling of your breath scratching your throat and falling short, choking you but never killing you-
Obviously you're suffering but since you're not dying no one saves you. But he will come to snatch you for your beauty and make sure to never see your complexities.
Never see beyond the skin that was once cut up along your thighs after your father died, leaving you to a life of surviving off of the bare necessities.
A world apart, on a faraway land. You don’t even know how to love princess.
To be honest, love after death is convoluted and Happily Ever After is a misnomer.
I know Cinderella never really let the prince all the way in and claimed he didn’t really get her, love her, because under it all she’s...
Eternally grateful to him for showing me his world, making me his girl… I just wish he’d see I know he’s more than what I say when I’m caught in a wave of depression. Drowning in anxiety.
When love and mental illness tango, glass slippers only make it easier to slip back into your head.