Lay down honey and let's whisper sweet steam;
for tonight nothing can hurt us without our
permission.
When will it end, you ask? Never,
I think.

But instead, I'll tell you the tale of eight princess's,
who simmer and steep in the very glory of God.
They each were buried alive, asked to stay put
and decay for many many days.
But instead, one princess heard the birds, who
fly and roam with crisp cloud undertones, chasing
a horizon that will never end.
But instead, one princess decided there must be more,
then lying dead. She wanted to find lips that bloomed
each morning and change the little she could.
But instead, one princess hummed the soft melody of
a future she couldn't imagine, painting it with pieces
and people that reminded her of what warmth once was.
But instead, one princess realized she could hear all of
them deep below. Their weeping and wishing each night and
roaring anger towards a moon they could only feel.
But instead, one princess touched her body slowly and rapidly
all at once, trying to find who she was in the dark.
But instead, one princess picked at the coffin until it
filled with blood, choking and drowning her in all that
she had self inflicted.
But instead, one princess plotted to **** all the men and women
who put her there, until all she could do was forgive them.
so she counted all the stars in her mind, until the madness
beckoned her to break free.


But instead, the princess opened her eyes and realized she had
buried herself all along. And the only way out, was within.