There once was a fairy who longed to be
Happy and sweet and kind and free
She hugged her good parents every day
Listened exactly to what they would say

She smiled at pink frosting on her cupcakes
And didn't realize she was a mistake
She thought that one day she would fly free too
Because, after all, that's what good girls do

She tried not to notice their glares, how they burned
Told herself that she had not learned
This yet
She tried not to cry when they took her crown
And tried not to frown when they said
Shut up

Because she was a fairy
And a fairy didn't cry
Until her good parents took her aside
And told her that she was f***ed up inside
That her wings were make believe
And that she was confined within the trap of lie
That her good parents were not good
And that she in fact
Was not a
Fairy

They tore the wings from her back
And she hid the scars as best she could
Wore the baggiest clothes so they wouldn't brush against her
And take away her blood
Or remind her she was trapped on the ground
That the paper stories that held her together in the withered form of a human
Were bleeding ink as she bled tears
And were slowly rotting away underneath her bed
As her skin decomposed underneath layers of makeup

Her pastel eyes grew black beneath the weight of her eyeliner
As she desperately tried to hide the bruises and the black eyes
That would not fade
Because how can it fade when nothing ever happened?
She just tripped
Right?

They weighted her limbs,
Strung her up on marionette strings
Because everything was fine
As long as they steered her face into a smile
And her flailing limbs into a morbid rigidity
That maintained when she
Thump
Hit the ground

The ground where the fairies died
And she cried
And she lost her pride
Because all she did was hide
From the truth that they lied
And the rising tide
Of emotion inside
Because she's petrified
That they'll come for her skin next

That they won't just tear off her wings
They'll tear away her skin
And then there will be nothing to hold her Frankenstein heart together
A mismatch of too many jumbled pieces
That won't fit together anymore
Unless glued together by blood from a razor

Don't tell her "Good morning."
That would imply her morning was good
That her days are not spent under the drug of oblivion
As she walks the halls in search of her wings

Don't tell her "You're pretty."
Her skin is cracked and crossed with railroad tracks wrapping up and down her arms
Her puppet face too distorted for the message to reach
The screwed up circuitry of her brain
Because she's insane
Or so they tell her
Because she doesn't know what to believe anymore
As she ties the noose around her neck and prays to God that no one will walk in
Because all she wants to do is fly again
And the only way to fly
Is to fall