To the ones looking at blades,
As though they were fire exits,
Doorways leading somewhere,
They are not.
It’s a ticket to repetition.
Changing your skin colour to blood,
Embracing a cage to leave another behind,
There are better things,
You can decorate yourself with.
To the ones who think “This,
Is not how it’s supposed to be”,
The world celebrates love,
While you’re happy.
And in the 5 seconds that you are not,
There’s Google Search,
To give you 10 reasons,
And articles, screaming,
For you to run away.
Is the world that believes in bombs.
That believes in war,
And silence, in the face of destruction.
Are learning to define beauty,
From the wrong places.
To the White Horses, and Frog Princes,
I am not waiting for you.
I have watched too many of us,
For loving differently.
– He must hold your hand in public,
Or he’s cheating on you.
For your birthday, she must build you the Roman Empire.
Or she just doesn’t care enough.
And oh! Oh. You must,
Watch the sun set together.
Even if it means nothing to you.-
See, this, is why we grew into princesses,
Accepting, or fighting the image,
They should never have chained us to.
To the ones, waiting for seven dwarves,
To come find you,
Being taught to look out,
For glass slippers,
Moulding your feet so you can fit into them.
Is your story.
Don’t let them write it for you.
To my 2 A.M. friends,
Blazing through media,
Looking for truce flags,
But only finding:
5 things men look for in women,
5 things women don’t look for in men,
10 ways to tell if your partner is unfaithful.
I hope you keep your delete buttons, handy.
To the little ones, learning to spell love,
In languages they don’t understand.
When they teach you to need anything,
And if they try feeding you fairytales,
Make them leave you the FUCK alone.
— Meghalee Mitra
photography by Agnij Sur