Don’t give me roses, they prick me with they’re thorns
Don’t sing me lullabies that doesn’t have prose in their song
Don’t make the promises you couldn’t keep
Don’t keep me hanging –
Pardon me for I’m not here to satisfy your thirst
Not even to put an end to your quest
I am a princess who grew bitter off my step mother’s curse//
Now run from here beloved prince
For I shall call upon my withered spoon
They’ll scoop unto your past, perhaps a fraud?
Oh I knew it! Sweet Prince you are a toad.
No comments:
Post a Comment