The Ungrateful Princess
She’d be bathed in the Sun’s vigor everyday,
Tanned to the consummate of beauty.
She’d be soaked to the skin by the rains,
Purified from the vile and the ugly.
She’d be distinguished by the masses,
She’d be honored for her brilliance.
But she’d smile on her plastic face
And disregard everything with her unique grace.
Stupid would you find this quality,
Which made her continuously so proud,
That she’d bestow with all her might,
But demand nil from the crowd.
For she had taught herself ingeniously,
At a very tender time of life,
That one mustn’t stay in lieu of others,
One mustn’t hold from the blade of a knife.
But she’d always be heard by The Love,
The Love barring all distressed,
The Love begged for by the unfortunate,
The Love, she, in panache, regarded uninvited.
She cast a shadow on The Love,
She thought she’d left it behind,
She blamed him for the injured dove,
But The Love always remained kind.
Then one fine day in an unreasonable fight,
The Love was lost, didn’t return at night.
She wasn’t uneasy, she didn’t dread,
She mouthed a blame to the fortunes instead.
Time flows, the princess grows,
The Love takes all beautiful facades,
But their hearts, but their souls,
Never do unite, nor obliged by the princess.
(The Ungrateful Princess)