Royal

Your royal highness, your crown is falling.
Falling into your bath of blood,

drowing in your own self pity

tell me, where did it all go wrong?

where did that smile go?

did you replace it, with red lines across your ivory skin.

Is it worth it?

Endless days of unhappiness,

Endless nights, of hot flames sizzling at your body,

Refusing, each and every bit of food.

Your ribs, like ladders upon your body.

Your wrists, like toothpicks, turning to dust at the lightest touch.

Your heart, like a scorched slip of paper.
Crumpled, used, and burnt.

Your mind, like an overgrown jungle,

thoughts tangled together, just like the vines.

And just like the vines need more than a humans touch,

your mind does too.

And just like the vines can only be broken with a weapon,

Your mind does too.

Your royal highness, is that why your crown is falling?

Is that why the razor intended for your mind, is used for your wrist?

Your royal highness, I wish I could have saved you.

Your royal highness, your crown still fits perfectly on your head, even though you’re in a box.