Locked high withing her faerie tale tower of tears.
Jailed withing her citadel of captive sorrows and laments.
Imprisoned against her will.
Held against her own need and want.
The maiden not fair wept bitter tears of blood.
But still she knew the rising of a new born sun.
And from deep within her there rose defiance.
She would be nobody’s rescue sweet and fair.
She would fight her own way out.
She would lament no more.
She would rise and know her own freedom.
For was it not always hers to take.
And never theirs to grant.