Once upon a time...

a story so often told
that I voluntarily deafen myself
to the redunduncy of it.

i have oftentimes escaped
into a book,
just because it has a
dainty, glossy cover
and i would watch
the story unfold in my mind's eye

and the beauty that was told
always left me more miserable
than I was before, oddly enough.

i glimpsed at worlds blossoming
in full colour and i sway
my head more often
than i'd breathe

i cried as if my heart was
being poked with needles
and i laughed till my ribcage
almost wanted to surrender

and every book that i read always
ended the same way, always.
because i chose to be ordinary.
i was never a fan of tragedies.

until i finally lived my life
in muted gray tones,
like an overplayed song
on the radio.

there's no lesson to all this,
really.

just a painful fact that
not all 'once upon a times'
end in 'happily ever afters.'

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