Lives are built around fairytales.
We all say stories are for children
But then search for dragons
To slay for our lovers.

We all must be
The daring prince
The beautiful maiden
The wicked villain
But I,

I...

I am the thorns that clench
Rough, brittle fingers
Around the tallest tower.
Climbing up, slowly, surely.
And then, the prince comes.
The prince comes
And he scales the great tower.
And he slays the great dragon.
And his maiden
His beautiful, pure maiden,
Has lips that quench like water.

But I am the thorns.
I am the footholds
That the prince climb with.
I am the ladder.
The means.
And, after the tower falls,
It is still my rough, brittle fingers,
Reaching skyward.