I want an escape inside a fairytale.

I could run with horses that gallop across fields, amid deer that prance behind their forest green shields.

I could live amongst men without anything more beyond chores, carefully picking apples in case of a settling score. Maybe then, my days wouldn't be such a bore.

I could melt a beast's heart without changing, and the dishes would witness a glimmer of hope as we learn that nothing can be kept in pristine condition. Perhaps, then, I would not feel people estranging.

I could prick a finger and fall into a sleep so deep that I would wake well-rested within my castle of many dreams to keep, knowing that tears of mine would not guiltily seep.

I could swim with a fork in my hair, a magnificent tail, and a voice that is fair, but a part of me would still want a grand witches lair.

I could walk through the forest with a basket of freshly-made soup. Perchance, it's possible that the Wolf, surely, wouldn't snoop. The egg drop soup may be good, however, my motivation in creating a delicious delicacy isn't made to easily loop.

I could make a dress for a ball-like masquerade and my heart would be content with seeing even a glimpse of a parade. If friends never came, I still wouldn't feel dismayed.

I can make soup for bears or sew fabrics just for their young one to stylishly wear. Yet, I know that what I make would never compare.

My hair would finally be long, where I want it, and healing properties would be imbedded from the flowers' song. Still, I wouldn't necessarily belong.

I have grown older and wiser, yes, but a part of me would travel through lands of unknown terrain, still, in search of a lamp that would grant me a wish of my own undoing.

Thus, for a reason so complex, I would consequently welcome such regret.

"I want an escape inside a fairytale."


© written.in.emeralds