A web of thorns,

A glass shoe,

Are the Disney fairy-tales,

Important to you?

A beast and a beauty,

A red haired mermaid,

Their arch-enemies,

Severely paid.

Are these stories truly dead?

Are they all untrue?

Some people believe,

What about you?

A cursed princess,

A lilac fairy,

Are their stories less important,

Than Potter's, aka Harry?

An evil stepmother,

A shoe made of glass,

Does Cinderella's history,

Not deserve to last?

And what about Belle,

And don't forget the beast,

Can you remember their rose?

Or Belle's very first feast?

And what about the mermaid?

With the flaming red hair,

Will she soon disappear?

Should they all beware?

A snowman who loves summer,

A queen who's coldness can be felt,

Will their hearts be broken?

Will poor little Olaf melt?

You might not believe,

But at least standby,

Retell these stories,

Or they will all die

People think it's easy

Being who I am

They think I am naturally smart

That I don't even have to try.

But I'm different inside

I try so hard I reach the breaking point

I can't stand people thinking I'm dumb.

So I push myself

But sometimes

I just can't do it

Anymore

I break down

Cry

Shut them out.

I try

To stay calm

To be the perfectionist

But I'm not

I want to run and dance all day

I don't want

To be perfect

Or smart.

I want to be me

Not who everyone

Expects me to be

Wants me to be.

I don't want to be

The girl they want me to

I don't mind people thinking I'm smart

But I wish

Just once

They would let me

Be me.

That once

Just one little time

They would be proud

Of something I did

That wasn't

By the perfect girl

They make me be.

Do not worry

Everyone’s life can be tough

And in most people’s cases

It’s bound to get rough

It’s easy to forget

How lucky you are

That you were even

Put here at all

But always remember

However hard it may be

That someone is defenatly

Worse off than you or me

So go and go and go

keep on pushing through

Because otherwise you’ll make pointless

All the work they did for you

Mountains,

Standing tall and high,

They hold much cold but never cry,

Through winters wet and summers dry,

Their roots below will never grow,

Their trees might blow away and fly,

Their streams might slow and dry,

But the mountains they stay still and high,

Never fall, never fly,

Mountains standing tall and high.

Everything seems to end when the Sun

dies,

Everything seems to end when the trees

fade,

Everything seems to end when we run out

of tears,

Nonetheless, it is not like that.

Everything continues, even if you are

gone,

Even if you stay,

These crystal sentiments,

Who is going to take them away?

Neither ending, nor remaining alive are

gone,

They just go on and on, and on, and on,

Does not matter what may happen,

I feel blind, I feel waned, I feel alone.

Penumbras everywhere, and she, the

light, never comes to dissipate the storm.

Surrounded by books, surrounded by

letters, surrounded by everything,

Yet nothing,

What one can do with a sentiment like

this?

The hand interprets it, the pen speaks it,

and the author never expresses it.

Only silence that remains and never goes

away.

DA 2012