#rapunzel
Rapunzel I confess.
That I made a mess, of more than your hair.
That all I ever did was....wrong and unfair
That I couldn't show you, I did care
Rapunzel, I'm too tired to fight.
But I watched you each night
as you slept
In the dark you were my light
which I failed to protect
With a harming hand
i became the reason you wept.
Rapunzel I'll never forget
How we shared your first cigarette
How i am forever in your debt
But I'll never regret that you were my first....
Kiss,
Love,
And...
Aug 13, 2019
Aug 13, 2019 at 1:38 AM UTC
I loved you.
_Yes, I did._
But I should’ve known better than to have believed the web of lies you sprouted at me. I should’ve known better than to believe your “I love you.”
_Why did I take that bite from the apple, if only I had known it was poisoned._
My mother warned me about strangers with blue eyes walking down the street. She said that was why she was protecting me.
_I should've never let down my golden hair, if only I had known._
It didn’t have to wait until the clock struck 12:00 midnight for it to happen; bibbidi-bobbidi-boo, I’ll have to hand it to you, you really had me fooled.
_You were never Charming, I needed to be my own Prince._
I’m stuck in a timeless blank, neither moving forward nor back, a canvas that has not been painted yet and sadness is the only color I know.
_I’m afraid I don’t have much patience to wait for a 100 years for true love’s first kiss._
A thousand times you tore my walls down, tore me apart and even when I’m at a chokehold, I thought it was still love.
_Maybe I was a fool to have thought there was beauty in the beast._
I traded my heart for something temporary, I lost my voice just to let you step all over me, and some part of me hates that I’d still let you if we were to try all over again.
_I’ve become the foam of bubbles lost in the sea because I couldn’t hurt you the way you hurt everyone._
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 11:54 PM UTC
Sometimes it doesn't feel like me
What I'm living in is foreign
What I want versus what I need
In a way it feels distorted
I was use to deprivation
In a way it was my pride
I didn't need or wanted as much
Even now I still don't mind
Overwhelmed with newfound freedom
I am free. Still, I am lost
I'm no longer trapped or controlled
But that was all I was ever taught
I was raised by maps and manuals
Now you give me a pen to write my own
Opening various paths around me
Paralyzed in anxiety to take even one alone
If recovery meant burning all of my maps
And rewriting all of my manuals
Letting go of strict rules and superior words
To be mortal than something mechanical
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 12:28 PM UTC
sometimes,
princes - s
wait - i
at the - h
top of - t
their tower. - e
waiting for - k
a rapunzel - i
to toss their - l
long hair up - t
tied at the end - s
with a grappling - u
hook and climb it - j
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 3:25 AM UTC
When I was young
I would spend hours
Braiding and undoing
My thick golden hair
Now that I’ve grown
I pull strands of sunlight
Out of the sky
To braid the golden strings
Into a crown
And claim my rightful place
After all, I wasn’t named Leia for nothing
-waiting to be recognized as a general instead of a princess
Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 9:48 PM UTC
Castles and queens
Red carpet and round tables
Warm wind through a poofed dress
Oh what a mess
No matter how hard they stress
That olden times were not like the movies its meaningless
For the
Dances like Cinderella
Simpler times in a castle tower
Dragons and romance with a prince
You'll never be able to convince
that this isnt what i want ever since
I was but a young sad girl ive dreamt of my Prince
King arthur and merlin
Excalibur and the lady of the lake
Green beauty and small hobbit holes
Oh sad girl you are in woe
For happiness you'll never know
You'll always be a locked away rapunzel
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 8:14 PM UTC
I never really had a dream
I always had a goal
Until I met her, it seems
I had one hidden in my soul
I wanted a lavish life
To make up for what I lack
To live out as someone else
Indulge and never look back
Then I met her
Who dreams more than she knows
She is lively, innocent and bright
Inspiring wherever she goes
Her dream is so pure
Nothing to really be gained
She only wanted to see and know
Why those floating stars came
I realized dreams could change
I have found a new dream
To be with her amongst the lanterns
Every year so it seems
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 10:40 PM UTC
To what does the world owe to her beauty?
A beauty no one has ever seen.
Locked behind a door, a barrier of sort,
But not to keep the world at bay.
She speaks to me through concrete and wood,
Curiosity growing fonder by the day.
Her voice echoes off the empty manor
To which my ears captures
And my mind constructs an image of her.
I can only assume she does the same of me.
I sit of hours in that sturdy chair outside her chamber,
Engaging in conversations we’ve never had before.
With each spoken word we unravel more layers of ourselves,
Layers we both feared of discovering.
I mustered up the courage to reveal feelings,
Feelings that quickly became a bouquet of clumsy words.
She laughs at my blunder
But not in mockery.
I place my hand on the wall.
I hear her footsteps grow closer.
I imagine her putting her hand up as well.
The closest I will get to feeling her touch.
My Rapunzel won’t let down her hair
But granted me access to her tower.
Frustration tells me to abandon this endeavor,
Yet hope yearns to see it through.
I return to that sturdy chair once more
To continue our routine as always.
My ears prepare to capture her voice again
Hoping to be greeted with the sound of a door creak.
The bedroom light sneaks from under the door
Accompanied by a woman’s fragrance.
I long to see the face she hides.
I long touch the skin she protects.
I long to break down the wall between us.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 5:23 PM UTC
Sitting at the bottom
Of the sun-kissing tower
Rapunzel,
I hear you crying for help
Could I make a suggestion?
Stop cutting your hair
And blaming the scissors
Instead of your own hand.
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 2:58 PM UTC
I wanna live
I want to feel the sun on my face
Bury my feet in the warm sand
Curl my toes and feel alive
My mind is my prison
My thoughts are my shackles
I am stuck in routine
Desperate to break free
I don’t know what I want
I definitely don’t know what I need
But I know I want to feel alive
I want to feel like I am living
Not stuck in my tower
Watching people from afar
Leading lives that I wish I could lead
I am rapunzel
Wondering when my life will begin
When all along
I have the power
The power to change my life
To make it how I want it to be
I am stuck
But I long to be free
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 5:29 PM UTC
I am Rapunzel,
Up in her tower,
Alienated from the rest
Of the world,
Separated by an invisible line
That I can't cross.
Between the window and the ground,
There lies a barrier,
That even the most charming
Prince can't bridge.
The effort to join the rest
Of the world is too much,
My hair is too short to
Reach the ground, to reach reality.
But aren't I in a
Fantasy world to
Begin with?
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 2:41 PM UTC
Follow the rabbit he will take you to happiness
Do not be late, do not miss that date
You could get lost in a sea of confusion
You would be deceived by the ostensible outlook
You could go fetch seven little men
You could be the fairest of them all
Beware of the deep and everlasting sleep
You would be deceived by the apple's red color
Worry about the petals, they are falling so quickly
He will be stuck that forever if you cannot make him love you
Keep an eye on the rose, it is far too beautiful to let go
You will be deceived by the appearance of a beast
Stuck in a tower, do not ever look down
Grow out your hair past the tall brick walls
Spot a good man, make him rescue your heart
You would be deceived by the family relations
Cleaning the bathroom, making the bed
Sneak out to town, be invited to a dance
"Fairy Godmother, please just give me once chance"
You would be deceived by the loss of one shoe
So waiting, I am waiting for an answer to come
Looking for one man to be the one that I want
A fairy-tale ending is nothing I am after
For I would be deceived by the misinterpretations of the story
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 8:28 PM UTC
She sits in a castle made of glass,
and waits for the guard bellow to pass.
Then slowly, she lets down her hair
and climbs down gently with some care.
Finally, her feet can touch the cold stone.
So she walks and walks till she hears a groan:
It was a wrinkled man; helpless and old;
beaten and poor but heart made of gold.
She bent down and sat there on one knee,
then played with her hair to earn some money.
Slowly but surely the money came pouring in
and, for a long time since, the old man was no longer thin.
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 12:38 PM UTC
i am Rapunzel.
captured behind a stone wall
slick with acid, coated with barbed wire.
i beat and i pound at the wall, until the flesh
is torn and my bones crumble.
i scream and i cry, until my voice cracks
and my throat bleeds.
i pray and i persevere, but no matter
how much i try, the wall will not budge.
i am Rapunzel.
captured behind a stone wall,
slick with acid, coated with barbed wire.
i cut my hair and dripped it out the window
like garland, but no one climbs through.
i sing a broken hallelujah, like a songbird
with a wish bone in her throat.
i search hi and lo for the key to my tower,
but there is only stone and a locked door.
i am Rapunzel.
captured behind a stone wall
slick with acid, coated with barbed wire.
i hold the fragments of my hope in my
****** palms, i water them with my tears.
some day my prince will come, perhaps
with a silver key in one hand, and
the Promise Land in his eyes.
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 11:21 PM UTC
Would you love her?
If her hair fell free
Locks sway on her shoulder
Wind catches them boldly
Sunlight will invade them
Brown blaze of strands
If you could see them play
Confining her forlorn face
Would run your fingers slowly?
If she sets them free
If she let them flow
A Rapunzel is what you need?
A glance of that entangled mane
Would be enough to drive you insane?
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 7:33 PM UTC
The chains have become a part of me, as I lost count of all the years. Endless minutes passed me by, hands to clumsy to catch my tears.
I can't help but know deep inside, that my soul just wastes away. Confined in this solitude, where I was forever put to stay.
Every story has a witch, whose ugly cackle can make you shake. Evil that can't easily be defeated, by true love or a wooden stake.
Shadows watch me while I sleep, and whisper that I must stay. Hope seems to dim now, with each passing day.
A prince was supposed to rescue me, but age has now set in. Youth has faded beyond the years, the signs of time carved into skin.
Fairy tales did me in, I realized as I step closer towards the drop. Beautifully poised I finally took that leap, knowing it's the only way to make it stop.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 9:05 PM UTC
Once a girl lived in a tower.
She had the longest golden locks you had ever seen.
Her mother would visit and be hoisted upwards upon those locks to see her daughter.
The girl was named after a plant… Rapunzel.
How could she know this though when she had always lived in her home of the tower.
Her mother had kept her there since she could remember.
Rapunzel would ask when should could see the world.
Her mother would turn down these pleas saying the world was too dangerous for Rapunzel.
As she grew older Rapunzel realized that she resided in not a home but a prison.
Why was mother allowed to see the world and she was not?
Why could she not decide for herself the dangers of the world?
Freedom always framed within her window but too far below to reach.
On her 18th birthday Rapunzel fled the tower using the locks that had grown so very long.
Her mother soon after discovered her daughter to be missing. Full of spite she pursued her daughter.
Rapunzel’s hair kept her from going too far and soon her mother was upon her.
Rapunzel tried to flee, but her mother seeing her daughter free from the world she had made for her stepped upon the long locks.
She pulled her daughter back to her slowly, back to the safety of her arms, her world. Rapunzel struggled on the ground trying to escape. She took a rock and severed the locks from her head. She fell forward into the edge of the woods and onto thorns.
She was blinded. Her mother rushed to her side not concerned for the eyes that weeped red but for the destroyed beauty that was her daughter’s locks.
Rapunzel may have lost her sight in that moment but her mother had lost hers long before that. Unable to see how she had hurt her daughter. That the greatest pain her daughter had experienced was given by her. Her daughter was blind and could not see the world, but her mother had never seen her for what she was.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC
Locked up in the tower,
she waited
till her last breath
to listen to those magical words
that her prince
was supposed to say
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel !!
let down your hair"
to set her free
to let her love
but destined to die alone
she never got to listen
as nobody ever dared
to speak those words !!
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 3:16 PM UTC
Last night at what seemed very late
I went on a quite grand date
with a boy on the moon who took me fishing
which we ended up ditching
to go see a queen with loads of hate
who wanted our heads served on a plate
then we fell up for what seemed like hours
and landed near a very familiar tower
with hair draped down the side
and a voice hurrying to hide
after all the help we thought we could give,
we ran away just to live and wound up
caught in a witch's lair
who had an apple
and a princess with short, black hair
she seemed to be dead,
though we couldn't quite tell,
until a prince came and kissed her and began to yell
that she was more than alive,
more than alright,
with just a small but of poison left behind
and the book closed at that very late time
for I'd danced with the past
and God only knows, that never lasts
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 6:19 PM UTC
I call it poison, but perhaps you won't. These cold pressed apples, pineapples, and spearmint only paste more modge podge over my face as I schlack it on...gritting my teeth I light yet another cigarette, now that's 2 packs of Marlboro Red Labels now onto American Spirits Light Blue. Cancer isn't coming fast enough. I wish I would at least be ******** out my innards by now, I haven't even vomited, maybe I'll take that toothbrush I bought for you to use when you would stay the weekend, that I haven't gotten around to whitening the sink with. Maybe I can do that Sunday. FUUUUCCK!!!! I am not praying I make till then. I don't know if I can even breathe another hour like this. I haven't drawn a sober breath in years- I'm on the wagon, but I was just transferred from a wheel into the **** bag for a horse. Being **** at least it's something I am used to (a sigh of temporary relief washes over me. Or is it finally the Nicotine buzz I've been hoping for since I escaped to the forest with an airplane bottle of Southern Comfort[Brainstem: South to the XX-femalien crease that's been comforting all these years, where are you now?] , and a pack of my Uncle's cigarettes to find out the first time how to make the pain she's gave me go away.
Men drink essentially because they can no longer illicit their needs.
You who I wasn't even attracted to at first, where together we barely called [Brainstem: this is where I construct a motive for using a chainsaw to pick my nose with] . You who I can now remember the way a mixture of your hair, body spray, sweet sweat, and vintage knits began leading my nose and my memory towards one of the greatest happinesses and darkest times I have EVER had.
[Brainstem: I just hate him. The kind of hate you have for a mosquito, a person who encourages you to speed up while they're walking without reflectors or night-lights in the middle of the road at night with their dog- that kind of hate. The hate that has me smoking my cigarettes to their orange and gold filters, that has me staying awake, unable to touch my own **** because it's already started staying at someone else's place and looks like two Californian Prunes and a shriveled overcooked mini-hotdog does. The kind of hate that has me burping up what smells like rotten eggs or bial.
....Out of nowhere without anything but the image of a virginate 21 year old casing around my aorta, lying in my bed in just a pair of her Fuschia & White Victoria Secret striped 100% cotton ******* that ever so slightly crease inward into the creases where her skinny young legs meet the ever-so-bite-worthy crease....After our first official date where we knew we weren't going to **** each other but rather she was focused on her breathing hoping I wouldn't be able to notice how excited she was [Crime: #4] then step away and find an imaginary monster that challenges every thought I have, conversations and incidents and challenges and givers and receivers and lines and dots, darts, knives, life, and *** and blood faintly stained onto the bottom of the that 1 1/2" piece of fabric which is the biggest obstacle between us.
While I write, recall, remember and dictate and draft up this piece, I realize that I am not the lawyer visiting the killer in prison OR even the killer cruising around in a slightly rusted robin's egg blue Volkswagen Anti-Climaxer, I am not even part of the story anymore, after you decided it was acceptable to be so graphically forward with me (I take another Xanax that's beginning to be two an hour that I avoid taking) Interspliced are scenes from Dexter, versions of serial killer life, visions of this fake superstar with his **** out flailing around spurting a little streaky one shot of *** onto your tongue and in your mouth, or maybe you were plastered with it.
I just know it's good I don't have a gun, I could go for a bullet sandwich 9 times over about now. I never touched, discussed, abused, misused, lead on, flirted with; I never did anything unattractive with the exception of being a heavy smoker and a low-earner right now, but I see women even younger than you make better choices than you. In fact right now I believe you will not even breathe on me. But it's no matter I have the reconstructed skeleton of his severed body parts I let soak in hydrofluoro until I could pick away what little gum-like pieces of pink sinew are still left. (Dexter: The Sarge and The Lieutenant walk out of the precinct at the same noticing each other.
Do you believe that I really handed over the upper-hand to you? I've never had someone begging to **** my **** on a Thursday and getting a fake celebrity ****** from an awesome artist. And what really ***** the hammer and lifts my limp **** and fuck-ticket up to your pretty little mouth, is knowing that eventually you will have to be alone again, and the shine of this excitement will wear off, and then I TOO CAN PLAY THE GAME.
1. Time to light the cigars.
2. I present the Nicaruagan landscapers' body, George Marshall, who is better known as 'The Skinner."
3. I accept that you're going to think being honest about your most promiscuous moments is attractive to talk about. I certainly thought that, up until you That is.
4. No more chocolate cake, again.
5. Throw out the soda.
6. Start taking Amphet Salts and running away from home and into everyone I would've liked to kick with my foot, bare, filthy, and furious into their cheekboned. Then smear the bottom of my oily and baby-ass, **** and inviting foot into your Hood until you spray like the five hundred other times you tell me you didn't. But even all this. This cell phone, this furniture, the awful sound of the train all night, the illusion and total manic state that puts diplopic faces of imaginary people between me and the rest of the world.
I need to know, do you even want to here this? Are you confused? What led you to come over or invite yourself here?
Pills, blade, play, or having that kid. But putting up with his ******** to be in the background of thought as someone while I was at home with his four kids. And I just relax then because, while I thought organizing the tower room to serve our primary guest of action was necessary when I looked at it so lit up by the buildings across the way shining their light through its atrium making all of the room much more suited for making art, writing and dancing. This is a huge handful of good-naturedness in a friend that can't seem to get off the phone and I must have to hid the monkey. I have to go to Walmart and return the monkey. I will...... and this is the biggest luxury, the hotel maintenance will even cover up my own series of murders or Dexters.
You believe me right sweetheart. You're my closest friend, but she is worn together and I just like the rings I own to be worn by you so that you don't get the idea to slip up and not just give me more anneurisms for my ****** up already head, or cancel the party, but really play that game and seee them cased out, otherwise I could be...a? A Cosmetic Manufact- "I believe in Freedom." You said.
"hahahaha", I can see that got you where you are today, postulating my grief by throwing self-care out the window and just judging me based on what you don't relate to instead of what you do relate to.
PS I know you didn't have time to let anyone know I was coming already? Until I snuck a peak and figured out you had been casing me the whole time from beginning to end to break me. But I'm not broken. I'm just not eager to be touched by anyone else of the ** form other than you for a minute. I also have time believing that while you were scared of me giving you your first ass-to-mouth experience while I stand you up in a skirt in the back of the school bus. And I can recognize tears of someone around us, and so I stand up and I recognize that it's my friend Stephen who is really (...is really, an imagined hologram of myself I invent to learn about myself in dreams, and other horrific events that my mind shuts down for, and no you're not the only 5' foot and 5" inch blonde haired ex of mine that performs from the camera but not for the eye. It will all come out in the wash regardless. I better to get goin.....I could write on and on and on and on about all of these multi-secular, uninhibited, depressing suggestions from the same bill my sister has to pay her Electric and Water monthly on, but I need to not sleep to make the need more. And even though I say the photo of her touching a single toe with a dead boring hell bent nobody Phillistine that could care less about her Grandfather being sick or her getting an STI or STD or if she is taken care of. But I do. I will. I don't stop being the good natured caring and and passionate person I am just because someone I really thought was going to take me an honest man, just taught me to be more meticulous in making sure I dispose of the body properly... But maybe she isn't playing pretend, maybe she's just another Fake Prada caught up in the mix.
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 7:18 AM UTC