"Art is a mouthpiece.
When all reason begins to fail.
Where does it come from?
Is it the rain of sadness or is it the pain?
Is it grieve slowly pouring in droplets?
Or is it trauma roaring like flames?"
- "What if l were an art ?"
"Hearts and Chao...
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The princess woke up to the bright morning sunshine
Streaming through the mosaic glass of her bedroom window.
Her eyes fluttered open, spotted with round dark circles.
It's been a very long time since she ever had a good sleep.
Her body winced in pain from the fight last night.
Little by little, the princess gathered her body,
Covered with scars of her previous unsung battles
Pulled it out of her silk bedsheets.
Her long dark hair trailed behind her like ocean waves
As she walked up to the mirror set aside for her.
Slowly and steadily she stepped out of her nightgown,
Embroidered with rich soft silk
And into her heavy weighted armor made of strong iron
Carefully attaching each metal piece into her scarred body.
Her long dark hair coiled into a single bun
Her delicate head burdened with her usual crown,
Glittering with gold and stones of ruby and emerald.
It is going to be a long day, she thought.
She examined her battered sword,
covered with dried blood of yesterday's battle.
She mounted on her white stallion
Before leaving her castle door
And marched towards the city gates.
The enemies were approaching from a distance,
looking like a single puff of dark clouds on a clear blue sky.
She watched them as they marched slowly towards her land.
never even once taking her eyes off them.
She watched them as they moved like dark clouds
Passing through the green fields,
Letting each flower wither and the grass decay under its touch.
She raised her arms and took off her golden crown
And replaced it with a helmet over her head instead.
Tonight its either her or them, she thought
As she rode with her armies towards the battle ground.
She found her main enemy, the dark overlord,
Awaiting her with his armies,
Spreading all over at the battlefront.
He stood there as still as a cold stalactite,
A faceless smoke underneath a black hood.
In his hand, he held the scythe,
Newly sharpened for his next prey
''Not today, grim reaper'' said the princess
Before charging furiously with her army head on,
Raising her sword high into the air
Plunging towards Death itself.
That night, when the battle was finally over,
The princess laid down her broken body
Bruised and beaten, on her bed.
She smiled at her victory
She had managed to fight the demons this time.
The princess finally closed her eyes
Her head resting on the soft pillow.
She knew the battle was not over yet.
She needed wake up the next day.
To take up her sword and her helmet
And to prepare for another battle once again.
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Dear Readers,
Thank you for reading this poem.
This poem was actually inspired by a wonderful quote I found on the internet:
"You wake up every morning to fight the same demons that left you tired the night before, and that, my love, is bravery." Lately, I have been experimenting with many fairytale elements and combining them with woman power into my poems.
To be honest, while I was writing this poem, I personally felt that it was too long to be considered more of a ballad than a poem.
Let me know what you think in the comments.
Also if you like this poem, please don't forget to vote.
