The lake’s silvery blue today,

The grass greener than the other side,

Sitting near the pool I coveted,

Then what are these tears I cry,

I should focus on being the perfect wife,

In a few days I’ll need to be the paragon bride,

The pride,

Of my village,

For securing a marriage,

With the handsome, charming prince,

Who rescued I,

From poverty,

The witch’s poisoned apple pie,

Relatives’ incessant mockery,

And numerous other atrocities.

Yet, to be honest,

I don’t feel ready,

to be royalty,

To spend my days cooped in a palace,

With brother in-laws full of malice,

Talking to butterflies,

Basically going insane,

Talking to the night sky,

Pensive eyed,

Over a glass of champagne.

Instead I’d rather wander the streets,

The city,

So different from the rural town I came,

Circus tricks,

Blowing out fiery flames,

Making friends,

With the local artisans,

Learning their craft,

And looking at handmade creations,

Of earrings, necklaces,

Exquisite bracelets,

Or talking to the pharmacists,

Admiring rare herbs,

Treating ill children,

Or animals who are hurt,

Why the world outside,

Is one full of life,

Bustling with knowledge,

And the scholarly kind.

Should I put these thoughts aside?

And focus on being the perfect wife,

In a few days I’ll need to be the paragon bride,

The pride,

Of my village,

For securing a marriage,

With the handsome, charming prince,

Who rescued I,

From poverty,

The witch’s poisoned apple pie,

Relatives’ incessant mockery,

And numerous other atrocities.

For he loves I,

But I just might,

Love the world outside,

More than he could realize,

And in a few days,

I’ll have to decide,

Whether to be the paragon bride,

Or leave my flawless prince,

horrified.