The one is a myth
I bid farewell long ago,
Along with the illusion
Of lasting bliss.
That was a fairytale, I know-
Concocted to charm little girls
Whose parents could not bear
To break it to them
That they would never be a princess.
But maybe it was not a total lie.
Perhaps there are many ones
Just waiting for
The right moment in time
To stop you with a smile,
Maybe even stay a while.
Then when the season changes,
The one will too,
And you will be blue,
But then you will find someone new.
Is it like going to the library?
My heart is a bestseller-
Someone new takes it for a spin
Until a different story catches his whim.
I was the right book at the right time,
The patron has a wandering mind-
It is not a crime.
It is not like going to the library,
Because they check out my heart,
Then return it again-
But they rip out their favorite page
To keep as a souvenir of the adventure-
Because to them, that is all it is:
Another adventure, another conquest,
Another stop on the road to where they are going.
They do it without knowing
The trail of tears they leave
And the hot fire of rage.
The one is a myth.
There are over seven billion people here,
But that does not mean that for everyone
A prince or princess shall appear
Standing underneath the tower window
Calling, "Let down your hair!"
Hey, I never said it was fair.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 11:07 PM UTC
The one is a myth
I bid farewell long ago,
Along with the illusion
Of lasting bliss.
That was a fairytale, I know-
Concocted to charm little girls
Whose parents could not bear
To break it to them
That they would never be a princess.
But maybe it was not a total lie.
Perhaps there are many ones
Just waiting for
The right moment in time
To stop you with a smile,
Maybe even stay a while.
Then when the season changes,
The one will too,
And you will be blue,
But then you will find someone new.
Is it like going to the library?
My heart is a bestseller-
Someone new takes it for a spin
Until a different story catches his whim.
I was the right book at the right time,
The patron has a wandering mind-
It is not a crime.
It is not like going to the library,
Because they check out my heart,
Then return it again-
But they rip out their favorite page
To keep as a souvenir of the adventure-
Because to them, that is all it is:
Another adventure, another conquest,
Another stop on the road to where they are going.
They do it without knowing
The trail of tears they leave
And the hot fire of rage.
The one is a myth.
There are over seven billion people here,
But that does not mean that for everyone
A prince or princess shall appear
Standing underneath the tower window
Calling, "Let down your hair!"
Hey, I never said it was fair.