I once knew a girl.
She was an ordinary girl.
She was not handsome nor talented,
but did possess a curious mind.
And so, she spent much of her time observing,
She wanted, simply, to be as clever as she was ordinary.
She was a strange soul.
Each morning she would ask herself,
whether she had any fears, or regrets.
And each morning she would lie and say,
that could not be –
it simply could not be.
Instead, wanting to be strong,
she pretended she had no fears,
and told herself each day that nothing was wrong.
She did not want to fall,
and most of all, she did not want to fear.
But, it was the case that
she had a million fears still to face,
a thousand dark closets yet to unpack,
and a hundred times still to fall.
She was afraid of many things;
though perhaps most of all,
she was afraid of love.
And though she really did want to love;
she found, somewhere along the way,
she had forgotten where her heart had been hidden.
Instead, she loved with a broken heart;
perhaps to be sure it would stay broken.
She found a strange kind of comfort in this kind of love
– a lonely but certain kind of comfort.
And so, she found herself waiting,
waiting for prince charming,
who would come save the day,
come tell her who she was,
and come find her heart again.
She was weak, pitiful, lost, confused and afraid –
all which she had sworn to never be.
She was all that I am.