Princess

I refuse
to be a part of her silly
delusion.

She’s sitting high,
twirling perfect hair
through perfect fingers.

And I am here,
twisting thoughts through a very
imperfect mind.

I know violence isn’t graceful.

And
I’m aware,
that Ill never glide through the air
or even life, with the grace
of a ballerina,

but I would
be content to stomp
across her stupid head.

Standing delicately
on elegant legs
she’s asking to be snapped.

Her every word reinforces
the intricate framework
of feigned innocence,
her arrogance.

Her eyes stare into mine,
daring me to call her bluff.

Her pretty face urging
to be spat on.

Don’t tilt your dainty nose up at me.