Bedtime stories never ricochet in salty pillows
but trauma is a Disney tale coaxed
with lilac stardust happy ending,
told and shown with smiley faces
hiding the dark Grimm original tales
where glass slippers
cut toes, and sisters pick out eyeballs

So when my father takes my hand and wishes
good night,
I ask him wasn't the little mermaid told
to kill the prince, cursed to become seafoam?
He sighed over this fact-over-feeling history
'some secrets stay secrets' his words, there's so much mystery

Next day, I see my original grimm brother book
missing from the shelf, with one page left
where the queen is burned so that the king slept
with the sleeping beauty only to have her
twins as dinner
The thing about beautiful things is that
they are integrally decaying
But Autumn never griefs of shrinking

the night, I tried to shed these tales
as lost old friend trying who fails
to be accepted by hyper unrealistic society standards, why we can't gulp down
that utopian society
doesn't exist
and nothing has to be perfect to be pretty