Broken Princess


Her dress was to short, her heels to high. And the crimson shade on her lips was smeared across her battered face. How she had tried to be a better woman. But life kept handing her some rough hands. Once she had been his princess. Living a life on a tufted pedestal. Held with such high reguard. Men admired her from afar and only had quiet desires. She was out of their league. She enjoyed the adoration and was adept at baiting them into craving her even more. But she was perfectly placed on her glass shelf to shine above the world.


Then one day it happened. He bored of her and tossed her aside into the gutter of life. She had no real skills. Pretty was her only asset. And here in the mean streets pretty only got you one thing. Used. So she set out with her only skill set, attempting to survive. And pretty faded. Like the pink in her dress that was once Marilyn bright, it was now faded Barbie. To many times through the washer in attempt to erase her choices. To extract the stench of layers of men off of her once pretty party gown. Hand were no longer sweet and loving. But hard and brutal. They took from her what little she had left and did so without a single care. She was used, abused, and tossed out like so much fodder.

There in the dark, she lost the battle. The war had won and there were no more rounds. The broken princess simply faded into the dark. Some where in a dimly lit coffee shop he thought of her with fond memories and wondered what had become of her. But his pride had not let him admit he had been wrong. So he lived to the end of his days missing her once pretty face and never knowing how she faded.


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