There was a fairly tale.
About a girl who's heart was frail.
She would talk to moon,
And dance in monsoon.
She was very delicate,
Believing on destiny or fate.
She would count the stars more often.
With the melody her words were spoken.
She would sneak out in to the mountains,
Just to see the frog under the fountain.
The world She lived wasn't magical,
But depended more on capital.
Her world wasn't as colourful as rainbow,
Black, white and smoky just so you know.
The mirrors won't show beauty of snow-white,
Rather brings out the concealed frights.
The glass slippers of cinderella were made up of leather,
Or the skin, or the bird's feather.
There were beast wearing facades,
Executing crimes for decades.
There were witches performing sorcery,
And frauds hidden behind majority.
No more sleeping beauties,
Just people ditching their duties.
The scent of flowers were long gone,
When rotten smell from trash was born.
Before flowing, valley's were dried,
Before growing, chick's were fried.
The cheery blossom were gone from land.
Just like the waves before reaching the sand.
The cicadas disappeared, so their cry,
Leaving the summer, without goodbye.
The paradise she dreamt was droughts,
As her world crumbled in doubts.
Sensitive girl was strangled.
Searching for happiness in every angle.
Her tender heart always seeking affection,
But the reality was more of dejection.
She froze her world as she closed her eyes,
Forever dreaming she flew towards the sky.
As the kite losing its string,
Her soul spreads its wing.
She found the peace in never-ending fantasy,
Living her long life, feeling ecstasy.
°°°hgk...
