Rapunzel?
Once upon a time
a woman in a white room
that primal scream of want and terror
her cheaply dyed hair coils like a tangle of bright red rope
the need is a nasty physical clawing thing
the white robed paper faced figures around her deathbed
needles and tubes
they fed her desire one last time
as she lay gasping shallowly in her high
her face twisted in a crude caricature of a smile
no, she never thought of her baby,
the child being born into the white world, even as his mother slips out
conceived by who knows who and who knows where,
the child is nothing to her,
she is an addict before she was a mother
she died in her own contemporary bliss
but how beautiful are his crystalline irises
he's awake,
but the monster of his mother's obssession has bled out of her and into him
he was born cursed,
with a want for something he could not understand
the white lab coats and the blue maked faces are monsters and ghouls in his imagination
he cries, but he is already broken,
this tiny, sickly, doll-like child
Rapunzel.
...
4 white walls and an iron window
2 chained chairs and a metal sink
bedtime stories and bedtime examinations
needles and needles
sheets and tables
he always wears the same blue dress
they called it standerd issue
to him, it's cardboard tissue
but he's happy to listen to the songs sung by her
he calls her Mrs Wren,
but in secret, she's Nana
towers and princesses and fire spewing dragons,
he and Nana spun the tales like sparkling gold from straw as she braided his long silver hair
...
his first experience with death tasted like strawberries
it was the pink syrup the white lab coats ladled out like candy
Nana's hand shook as she gave him the cup
he gulped it down and asked for a story
but he only got tears instead
Nana was scaring him, and his head wnats to explode like a watermelon
he ran to his bedside and hit the big red button he was never supposed to push
the room was instantly filled with white lab coats like a flock of seagulls, sqwaking as him, at each other
but he couldn't hear, the white is slowly crumbling to grey
Nana never came again,
but the little boy understood
all the stories and the playtimes were fake,
he was alone,
because Nana was just another white robed monster
because nothing was ever real
Nana was gone, but she was never here
he's trapped in this white room forever
but if only Nana had known,
that he was happy because of her
that he didn't mind living in the white room, because she was his color
that her sympathy to set him free from her imagined his entrapment was just her wishful thinking
that he was never trapped with her, but she with him
too late,
he's trapped in this white room forever
by the time he woke up
the little boy had already lost his mind.
...
thirteen, and his silver hair has never been cut
no one else touched his hair but he and Nana
he can't have it
but he still didn't admit it
he's waiting for Nana to come back to brush it and braid it and tell him another story
he's beautifuly colorless
silver eyes, silver hair, silver lashes like a fan of snow
as if the moon had imagined him there
but beauty is sin,
beauty is pain,
he never had the chance to learn.
late at night, the stranger slipped into his room
he couldn't recognize the stranger without the face mask and the white coat
no one heard him scream that night
...
morning comes
but Rapunzel never woke up
he slit his own wrists with a broken mirror
white and red, a field of lilies where roses had taken root
and thus end our tale of the modern Rapunzel,
his prince was a bastard, and his tower was neglect
he was broken from the beginning
but in the end,
no one cared he was dead
...