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Story Teller

The end draws near, ever painfully, unhurriedly,
So what of the fairy tale, princess,
When you run out of pages to hide behind?
Drawn by tearlight to the fireside
To escape the wintry starless night,
Plunging, head first, into some preordained tragedy.

But the curtain has not yet fallen,
Perform, little storyteller, might we even dream
To receive a happy ending this time?
The princess did not ask so much,
Enough would be a moment, a story, an ounce of hope,
Of a forever written on the sky tonight.

Reaching up, and tearing the satin clouds,
If only she could peek at the last page,
Written in the stars¡­ But the clouds,
If they saw her every breath of suffering,
Would they just tell her, or cruelly laugh at her,
When she treasured every aching drop of hope?

Stepping into the river, still afraid to cross,
Doubt overtook the princess, and she paused
Before trusting the waves to carry her home.

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