mirror, mirror

by Ilyda Chua

 

 

i.

princess, you

wear the words they spit

like strings of pearls

around your wrists

and neck.

 

foolish and frivolous and

fucked over and fucked up,

 

they spit,

 

and you take those words,

press them to your skin

like an iron brand,

 

arrange them around your brow

into a dark crown.

 

 

ii.

 

they wouldn’t give you one,

would they,

so you fashioned your own

 

from the steel in your sweat

and the iron in your blood.

 

 

iii.

 

princess,

 

the human brain

is made of grey and white matter.

yours is made of grey and white

matters-not,

 

and you wear those words

with such arrogance –

 

let them talk,

if they will.

 

 

iv.

 

but, princess,

you are not a queen, and

those words are not your jewels.

 

they are

 

worms in an apple,

peeling strips of skin from

soft flesh,

burrowing through pulp and bone

until all that’s left is a

 

flat, white core.

 

 

v.

 

foolish and frivolous and

fucked and

 

still

fucking

up.

 

princess,

 

you were never meant to be a queen,

were you.