Poor Princess
Wandering the streets tonight.
She sings to the stars and listens,
But no reply in return.
Forced to rejoice in her
Darker dreams, her skillful lies,
She sings and let the hands grab her
But in the end, she still dances.
Velvet black and daring red
Becomes her hidden beauty.
Her curls tumble down
Warm and perfect, off-limits.
So few know how to live,
A fire builds in her.
She burns on the stage
And no one will play the rescuer.
Trying to exist in a underworld
Will kill you, poor lovey.
Reaching for dreams but
Only getting her fingers bent.
But one reaches back for her,
Tries to encourage the good girl part.
And she lets herself be lost in mist,
New dreams born because of the good doctor.
Those who say the night is still
Fool themselves, silly biddies.
It hides demons and Spiders who try to
Catch the girls dancing in the shadows.
A new one comes to her,
Parting the mist razor blade slick,
Eyes only sharper then that,
Blood thudding through him.
Little girls shouldn't play with fire,
But she burns too, and he knows this.
Fear can drown people, and so
He drags her by her hair to the surface.
She tests the waters, and he is in chin
deep, the ripples running from him,
Mirror water surface broken in his wake,
Terror shattering every calm.
Water is forgotten in the rage of flame,
And her burns are shown as bruises, but
Still, she hungers for him, this new side
Smoldering and wanting more.
Good doctor is now sad to see
The pretty unfortunate becoming
The Beasts favorite toy, his new doll
He tries to help, but she slips further,
Fingers still stretching.
She wants to be spun out of sparkling steel,
Never being hurt again,
But the fire returns,
And lust and madness melts that cage away.
She has a new chance to sing agian,
The cage is now open and the air is now fresh
The final leap is hers, but as she goes to jump
The Beast twists her wings and they snap.
His voice is now jealous, he wants his doll
To pine only for him, confusion over his
Aching heart , he sees her tears when he
Marks her lips his property, it makes him burn
His razor eyes grow sharper,
As his clever friend makes a jolly
Necklace of red on her pretty throat
Red ruby pearls hang on her white neck.
She crumples to the floor, broken doll
Again, her eyes no longer burn and tear,
And her lovely curls are now ice cold,
And her hopeful hands are stretched in their final reach.
Poor Princess,
Wandering the real darkness
Lets night enfold her finally
And now… she is safe.
Author's Notes : Yeah , this was an attempt at poetry…my first one, actually. I'm going to go on a whim and call it un-conventional…but I like it, so that has to count. Let me know what you think, as always !