The lady is locked up.
That poor, sweet, innocent flower,
How long must she be stuck?
The lady waits for her brave knight
To save her from this strife.
Battle the dragon, win the fight,
And take her as his wife.
And so it happens, as she wished,
Though this was not her dream.
It feels as though she’s left adrift,
While he is left agleam.
She’s left there in his shadow,
Not left her own person.
He sets a path, and she follows,
For she is not a burden.
Until one day she tells him
The error of his ways.
That she is not an item,
And this is what she says:
“It has come to my attention
What you have done to me.
So now I’m going to mention
What I think you can’t see.
I’m no trophy, my dearest knight.
You now need to see that.
I haven’t quite escaped my plight,
It’s not yet in my past.
You’ve treated me as some object
Since I have been your wife.
I wish I could gain your respect
With my own way of life.
And so, my love, I take my leave,
To write my own story.
This is the best way, I believe,
To gain my own glory.
I hope I have made my point clear,
But as a final lesson,
I’d like to say one thing my dear:
You write your own damn legend.”
A poem about damsels in distress - because they annoy me.
Yeah, I know, this is a bit of a change of pace, but the mood just struck me to write a poem about something like this.
Bit of a disclaimer here as well, I'm not female, I just wanted to get this out here.