She wore her crown with pride.She wore her crown with pride. Yes, it had thorns, but roses as well. Yes, those thorns harmed her, but any who tried to remove the crown were harmed also.She wore her crown with pride. by WitAndInk
The crown was as she was now; fragile in appearance yet sturdy within.
The crown was as she was in her dreams; dangerous to all whom approached.
The crown was as she was long ago; beautiful-- the most beautiful thing in the world.
But now that beauty was gone.
Now she was aging. Now she was old. Now she was decrepit. She would never be young again.
Her roses had wilted. Her petals fell. Her crown was dead. It would never live again.
But the thorns were still there. In death they had hardened. Her thorns sharpened with her wit. As her beauty faded her thorns grew fiercer.
Her thorns grew out from her crown. They entangled her now weak heart. They wrapped around every bone in her brittle body. They extended to make a throne for her, as unapproachable and intimidating as the hag herself.
She was no longer the sweet and innocent
My name is Leslie. I love to drawing, writing, gaming, reading, hanging out and playing sports.|
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