Where's your prince now, Ella?

What happened to the one thing

that made you p e r f e c t?

Where's the pretty dress now, Ella?

The sparkles nipping at your skin.

Constantly reminding you of the lie

you live.

What happened to pumpkin, Ella?

Creating a wall that distracted the

outside world from the shy girl

inside the white carriage.

Why'd you let the glass slipper fall, Ella?

You let the bond tear.

You let them see the real you.

You them let them see the im perf ect i on s.

Where's the fairy tale, Ella?

The one that p u l l e d you in?

Or did it disappear once the clock

stroke 12?

It doesn't matter anymore.

The fairy tale is gone.

But you don't need it.

You've created your own perfection.

So the let the shiny metal pierce your

Skin. Let the glossy red liquid pour

From the opening. But just don't

Let anyone see.

Because then the gig would be up.

And everyone would see past the

Façade.

That Ella of the cinders was just Tawni Hart playing pretend.