I wish I believe it when people say they'll never leave,
But I still taste the salty tears of the goodbye note you wrote,
The lullabies of heartfelt cries,
An those times I was to good at say goodbye,

Behind my pain-filled eyes,
I see a girl I use to recognize,
A healing heart,
On a open battlefield,

A little girl trying to believe the bedtime story she told,
But being told by her soul the real world,

One where princess have to wait for there Prince Charming,
One where the frog kisses the wrong princess,
One where the fairy godmother is to late,
And one where she broke her shoe,
her carriage has become a cage,
When her hair as faded from every page turn,

The war that has been raged inside her,
Because she afraid to believe in one day,
She afraid to believe the nevers and the forevers,
Because she seen everyday turn to parades of the same fake forces daze,

To never forget that life to short to trust salt,
That was confused for sugar,
That being nice with only take you so far,
And that one day,
You wake up feeling the same,

You'll flap our wings one more time,
And sing your fairytale song,
And your true love will sing along,
You’ll remember what it like to dream,
And believe it could be a happily ever after,

And wake up in a world,
Of your own,
And those goodbyes,
Will turn to mournful cries from forgotten peoples eyes,
Because just than they will realize,
There boring lives,

As she thrives,
She survives,
And now truly now,
She good at goodbyes,
And hardly recognized,
For the rest of her life

Bruised bitter apple:
the horror! To roll across my tracks.
Of the crab variety,
we decipher what's in cider.
Fright, how might, precisely,
the worms persisted- when once
flesh was tender enough?
Now they are dead, the apple dented
where butted their unsuspecting heads.
When guts are made a graveyard,
no Wicked Queen’s power overrules
the external grotesque, or the royal
inner circle’s internal damage, ringed
  like trees,
   like circles of hell.
Sour taste, and, more importantly--
wriggling, struggling,
self-pesticidal hopes and dreams.
Unsightly to fit their environs.
Some as parasites, but some only friends.

in today´s virtual worlds we take our avatars
to meet with others of their kind
in that cute coffee shop in neverland

hoping that one of many current superheroes
shows up for a quick drink before another dangerous task
like fighting dragons threatening fair damsels
       killing the blinded one-eyed giant
       defeating hordes of wild insurgents
       saving our planet from superior but evil aliens

old fairy tales and myths
       it seems
have donned contemporary virtual garbs
changed names and weapons
to happily exude their fascination
on yet another generation
hungry for adventures
that take them far away
from their quotidian battles for survival