How cold was the night when Belle learned to love a horrid beast?
How bright was the evening when Wendy chose to never leave?
How silent was the dark when Aurora was sound asleep?
How selfish was the midnight when Cinderella’s shoe fell off her feet?

Now, those are magics and princesses made up of fiction and fantasies;
We are blood and flesh made up of atoms and reality
Who are forced to believe someday we'll be as lucky
To have our own kind of sweet tell-a-tale stories.

But how cold was the night when you waited for someone to come back?
How bright was the evening when you wished upon a shooting star on the sky?
How silent was the dark with your sobs and tears that were left to cry?
How selfish was midnight when you realize no one's returning as you look at the clock?

It all happens after AM
when the night was cold
while the evening was bright
the dark was silent
and the midnight was selfish.

— 𝙘𝙗.𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙙