Sparkler

It's not like a rush of waves Like I've read in those books The innocent idyllic lies Of fountain wishes and Written dreams and Patriarchal fantasies All in illustration Illusions? Delusions? All the same Damsels, dragons, the dammed, Doesn't feel too far from truth, Be it written in thousands of pages before now, in this moment Knights, nights, party lights Why wish for saviours when it's now That my story should start? Should it? Could it? Could the masculine energy cope with my defiance While the moths feast on the dresses That would sexualise not humanise The flesh and blood I wear, It's mine to share Feeling disconnected from reality Yet those delusional illustrations In page after page Etched in my brain Make no sense when that glass reflects The shell and defence I wear Day in and out Who am I protecting I'm only hurting myself Is it the fantasy of me The idea I dream for myself No rainbows to arch over me Lack of godmothers who turn up When we want to please a man To show who we 'really are' And paint that picture We dreamt about as children I am hurting, I have no energy To paint, to draw, to wait To dream, to please I chose me, I have no story And I hope I disappoint the ideals That were pathed for many before me I'll make noise, I'll defy those fictions That is not me, shan't be me I chose to be a sparkler No tiara.