she is no princess you
ever discerned about,
no unfurling curls,
nor golden locks descending,
down her fair shoulders.
She posses no complexion
of the palest of pink,
her spindly attire ,
nay delineated to
allure any vagabond heart.
the descendant she isn’t
of an humongous empire,
she is no offspring with blue blood
or a silver spoon juggling on her lips.
Her soul besmirched by awning of lineage.
dainty ,her lashes never were
her stare don’t inundate you either
damsel in distress she never was
never deluged in ecstasy of prince charming
never did interminable gowns drape her,.
but she is a princess,
her breath mixed with fire,
her stare would burn one alive
her pupils flared in glistening red
her skin outlined by hardest bronze
she is nay soft,
but the queen of her clan,
breathing the smoke of fear,
outliving the hurdles of life,
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