Caught between

What is real

And what could have been

With no end in sight,

Her boots trudge through

The swampy mire,

Hitching up her

Emerald gown

And holding on

To her paper crown

As she bravely goes

In search of ground

That’s firm and sound

But sinking deeper

Every moment

Has become the norm.

And so she leaves her trail

Of glitter dust

As she searches

A land of limbo

For the safety

That she craves.