Not Every Prince Wears A Crown
Introduction: We grow up with fairy tales stitched into our childhoods—stories where love is a rescue mission, where perfection wears a crown. This poem is a quiet rebellion against those ideals. It’s about a girl who waits for her prince, only to discover that her story is hers alone to write. She grew up with tales in golden thread, Of glassy dreams and words unsaid. Where sleeping girls found love through touch, And fairy dust could do so much. The stories whispered, soft and sweet, Of royal hearts and ballroom feet. Of carriages spun from pumpkin vines, And perfect lips that spoke in rhymes. She waited for a prince to find The missing shoe she'd left behind. But none came knocking, none who knew That her feet bled from walking too true. No magic mirror spoke her name, No rose stood still within a frame. No dragon burned, no tower high— Just mundane mornings passing by. Still she searched in crowded streets, For storybook eyes and chivalrous feats. But love wore denim, not roya...