Piles of gold,
Silver and rubies,
Hidden among the simplest
Of objects, locked in an iron vault.
Holding stories of lost things,
Monsters and people fallen loose.
I wonder, can you live within a
Faerytale vault and still have
A life to speak of inside these iron walls?
So you want to be a princess,
Princesses in storybooks
Can never choose their own fate,
Can never choose their own love,
Can never choose their own heart.