Tinkering with Fairytales

I don’t understand the fuss about the way my clothes fit;

blame the trees for their insufficient leaves.

You excuse his immaturity but critique my attitude—

boys will be boys and I will be stubborn.

Just because I can fit in the palm of your hand,

the rules of human civility don’t apply?

Maybe there’d be no need to be moody if only

my feelings were respected.

The trail of glitter that follows me is not for your entertainment,

or for you to capitalize on.

Follow us into the land of immortalized immaturity

and appropriate my wings.

Pick and choose the pieces that feel most fun to you—

don’t dwell on a shadow.

Consider it luck that my magic wand is limited to fairytale endings;

just imagine the damage I could do.

Intoxicate yourself with the thrill of high altitude

and you might never land.