They call her a fool for believing fairytales exist. They call her a fool for trying to paint a light in between the darkness. They told her stop when all she wanted to do as go. They told her to plead a yes when there should have been a no. They hinder her. Chain her into a prism. There are no dreams on realism. They. The ones who fail to believe. Absent at heart and dream. They. The ones who can easily be. They. They, are me.
















