blue-blood.

Here’s to the glass slipper you refused to wear,

The flower you didn’t let them braid in your hair.

They called you princess and gave you a crown,

Fed you from silver, threaded silk for a gown.

x

Delicate, precious, frail as a daisy,

“You mustn’t do that, you should sit like a lady,”

Ordained to be queen but holding much bigger dreams,

They’d come running when you broke at your seams.

x

Suitors so fit, deemed worthy by father

Princes so charming, speaking of gardens of flowers.

You delayed your answers, you bought time to yourself

To discover who you really were, behind expectant smiles.

-n.t

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