Stolen Fairytales

Stolen fairytales falling off the wall

Pictures that should have never been there

She may like it but its too hard for them to crawl

Up to wherever the heavens end

It was only a haughtiness she wore that day,

That ensured and instigated, hammered through.

His shoes are like the revolver on a motorcycle wheel

One day you see them, one day you don’t

His gifts are meagre leftovers of where he’d been spending he whole week.

But she gladly lets him in.

“If he could touch me, hold me, dote on me before he goes again

Maybe the I could have enough wistful thoughts, sparked coals

To pull me through the winter days.”

Treasuries of the heart couldn’t do nothing to her endless demand,

If he only knew how little it was,

But through all that little portion being thrown to her

Like bits of pellets to a starving fish

She cried through clenched teeth

“Lord, help me not to settle for the least they give

May I seek for more!”

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