now for the end
Once upon a time
There was a young girl who could have been a princess; she had hair of gold and eyes like a river
(if only I had been prettier)
But one day, she encountered a sorcerer with a black heart
Who in fact was naught but her shadow
(I do not know how, but it is my fault, I am sure of it)
In the following days, she did not know what to do
And preferred to hide her discovery
(it would have been better if I had never known)
But the seasons went by and the secrets multiplied
The powerful lies became all-consuming
She decided to set fire to her story
Midnight for her had just passed away
.
It was so easy, too easy, to wear a mask in addition to these required dresses
(masked balls don't have any appeal since I live through them every day)
Her parents didn't really worry about her disappearances to her room;
Because they were able to keep the appearance of her perfect royalty
And also because a smile was stitched on her face and some make-up was added at the end to hide all traces of weeping
And she tried to leave her heart behind
Throw the key into oblivion, but ultimately she only increased the load weighing on her body
She was the ugly duckling who never grew, it was too late
Cinderella, forever in her rags
The Litte Match Girl , knowing that the end would come tomorrow
Sand dripped down in her hour glass and she became better at her game
She observed the birds and thought of the dragons
An apple, rather of poison
A forest, she had been lost there for a long time
She wore an invisible veil that hid her thoughts
She did not spend any more time thinking of it than was indicated by it shadow caught on her face
Which came forth automatically, accompanied by a smile saying that all was splendid
If only she could have had the good fortune to never have met a sorcerer, and to thus have avoided being cursed
Sometimes, she longed to laugh at how easy it was to pretend
After all, she told herself in the guise of reassurance, it is not like it is that serious to lie about this kind of thing
And all that this brought was people who avoided having to show false empathy for her
In addition to protecting her appearance as being the golden princess
("And it makes you break a little more on the inside, my heart cries to me")
Days and nights alternated
And she lied and smiled and hoped
Even if she knew perfectly well that for all of this she was without hope
It was probably her curse; this obligation to be messed up, to be missed, to be something that needed to be washed out
(how can I be meant to be a star when I am naught but a moon without light)
And she continued, walking walking falling
Falling down, towards the bottom
Of this self-dug hole
But they were blinded by her years of practice
It would all end there
She who was hanging on by her fingertips, just until the time when she could climb up by herself
They who believed that all would be well
It came to her then, when they noticed nothing
Perhaps they saw, but thought that it was nothing?
That in fact, it was nothing but the complaints of a girl who exaggerated, who was too spoiled, too protected
It was very much too difficult for them to raise their heads from their own stories and notice that clouds were hanging over her life
The pressure and problems accumulated
And sometimes she did not know how to breathe
("my fairy godmother, can you not help me?")
Inhale, exhale, how do the others do it?
("No, not unless it concerns your prince")
She was obliged to put up with formal audiences, suppers, festivities; she became, after months of practice, an observer who hid her expressions
Biting her cheeks, wringing her hands, screwing her thumbnails in her skin
(forget forget forget
you do not have the right to have help, you do not have the right for a break)
She locked herself in her tower, two voices in her head, the one giving herself hell the other protesting feebly, so that she rolled her body like a child, hands tense on her ears
("stupid, ugly, hideous, pathetic, weak weak weak, idiotic, arrogant, monstrous")
("... f-false... ")
She advances - towards where?
("What are your plans for today, princess?"
I do not know, it is useless to dream, and my name is not princess)
She walks - is it really worth the pain?
("How are you, princess?"
bad, horrible, I believe that I killed the sun - above all, do not call me princess!)
She runs - what will save her?
("Excuse me, princess, has something happened recently?"
nothing, I am just crying on the inside, but that – it's not new - I said not to call me princess!)
She knows that there is nothing here, nothing more than her and her shadow.
She ran
And ran
And ran
And jumped.