growing up is not the fairytale 

i was led to believe it would be. 

from a young age i was force-fed fables of fetching 

prince charmings and sparkling 

white horses and a pristine life 

of independence and confidence, 

love without consequence. 

i was taught to be wary of stepmothers 

with selfish wishes and keys to the attic, 

taught to steer clear of evil witches with 

devilish magic and poison apples, 

but i was never warned that 

the evil witch would be me, 

and i would be tricking myself 

into eating that poison apple. 

 

when i was young i was never warned 

of the cursed spindle 

waiting in the deepest depths of my own mind,

luring me into its treachery,

tricking me into believing that if i

sacrifice one thing, just this one thing,

just this one time, i could have it all.

one tiny prick, that’s it 

and i could be all grown up. 

 

but i was never warned i would

have to sacrifice 

my imagination for cynicism, 

my youth for blindness, 

my innocence for 

this.