The sun rose outside, and shone in her eyes.
Caprioled from her bed to slide across the floor
in socks that were mostly worn for the fashion.
Grab and drag the brush through her bed-head.
A simple toy, covered in sparkle dust,
performing the daily task of transforming her into a beauty.
And before she twirls about the streets in denim gowns,
or cavorts with courtier or peasants,
she performs her ritual of the magic brush,
empowering confidence in her princess abilities.
Because gold glitter never gave her a reason to doubt in it.
And she would blink large, disbelieving eyes
at everything that told her she Wasn't.
her brush had made her enchanting
and she was delightful, she knew that as simple fact.
She would stand tall on park benches and sing her impromptu musical
What person wouldn't desire to give her their full attention?
And one day she lost her balance, thereupon toppling in her satin toe-shoes.
Her song chorus discontinued by painful intakes of harsh oxygen.
As Prince Charming and Fairy God Mother unlovelied her with words never meant for a duchess's ears,
the Kingdom turned to stone, and her heart followed suit.
To pay for her Independent Strength she traded in her precious, plastic gemstones,
and the next day she left her hair unbrushed.