Once Upon A Time
There was a princess who was deemed
most beautiful of them all.
She didn’t want the title,
and the title didn’t want her.
For she never felt beautiful.
Her hair hit her waist,
a burden.
Her eyelashes were too long,
a flashy comment.
Her figure was an hourglass,
a shame.
Her dresses were too tight,
a misleading statement.
The title told her to talk to the witch,
and she would know what to do.
So the princess ran to a small cottage,
to find a striking young man looking at her.
He was what the princess wanted to be.
For he was a boy, and she was stuck as a girl’s body.
“Please help me not be the most beautiful,”
the princess pleaded, offering everything she owned.
The witch looked down at her, but smiled softly.
“Are you wishing to be a prince?”
The teenage girl nodded, pleading to be so through a candle.
The hatred for her body was too much to handle.
So with a snap,
on the floor there was a handsome young chap.
He looked at himself in the mirror,
and began to cheer.
His hair was short,
a blessing.
His eyelashes were stubby,
a subtle touch.
His figure shaped as a box,
a boost in self-esteem.
His clothes fit just right,
a statement right for him.
“Prince, Jasper, must go on ahead,”
with a smile the witch said
turning into a beautiful woman.
The prince smiled brightly without vain,
not having to hear the old name.
“Thank you, for your acceptance. This was vital,”
the young prince said before yearning a new title.
The kindest prince to ever live.
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 10:05 PM UTC
Once Upon A Time
There was a princess who was deemed
most beautiful of them all.
She didn’t want the title,
and the title didn’t want her.
For she never felt beautiful.
Her hair hit her waist,
a burden.
Her eyelashes were too long,
a flashy comment.
Her figure was an hourglass,
a shame.
Her dresses were too tight,
a misleading statement.
The title told her to talk to the witch,
and she would know what to do.
So the princess ran to a small cottage,
to find a striking young man looking at her.
He was what the princess wanted to be.
For he was a boy, and she was stuck as a girl’s body.
“Please help me not be the most beautiful,”
the princess pleaded, offering everything she owned.
The witch looked down at her, but smiled softly.
“Are you wishing to be a prince?”
The teenage girl nodded, pleading to be so through a candle.
The hatred for her body was too much to handle.
So with a snap,
on the floor there was a handsome young chap.
He looked at himself in the mirror,
and began to cheer.
His hair was short,
a blessing.
His eyelashes were stubby,
a subtle touch.
His figure shaped as a box,
a boost in self-esteem.
His clothes fit just right,
a statement right for him.
“Prince, Jasper, must go on ahead,”
with a smile the witch said
turning into a beautiful woman.
The prince smiled brightly without vain,
not having to hear the old name.
“Thank you, for your acceptance. This was vital,”
the young prince said before yearning a new title.
The kindest prince to ever live.
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