Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time, she was a child.

Pure and innocent.

Loved by all who saw her,

Seen as nothing but a lovely blond girl,

A princess in the making.

It was only a matter of time before

She was tired of her sandbox and of her playhouse.

Overcome with the desires to burn her pretend castle

And cry her imperfect tears all over it.

Everyone told her to treasure this time.

She grew out of her dresses and dolls.

And in her grief,

Turned her interests to destruction.

For she, caught up in who she could have been, was a mourner,

One who was advised to always, always smile.

She was real, not some fictional princess.

Instead of saving her people,

She held them capture.

Opposed to protecting her fragile castle,

She lit the fire herself.

And to think,

All it took was

One.

Struck.

Match.

She was defiant,

A real go-getter.

She was blaze in the Arctic.

Fueled by crushed hopes.

She was an explosion.

She was the grenade

That started this whole mess.