In the morning you don
A fairy tale lifestyle,
Where you become the princess
And everyone bows to your will.
The fairy godmother of your own pride
Swaps your rags for riches,
All homage is yours;
All sacrifices are placed
Upon your altar.
Your empurpled gown sweeps past
The dusty tiles
Where once your bare knees pressed
Now you scorn to stoop so low;
You will not even spare a glance
To the corners you knew so well.
The souls you used to call your friends
Now serve your meals;
They wait on you with gentle smiles,
With just a hint of longing
But what are they to all that now is yours?
The world opens her purse
And you take what you desire
With greedy fingers
Now decorated with diamonds.
But as you gorge yourself
On the feast of your vanity,
You may want to pause
Consider the dress you’ll wear,
Lest you shall be stripped
When the clock strikes twelve.
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