Thumbelina sits
on rose petal dreams.
She dances, she sings,
she knows not what it means

to sit alone in a coffin
with no hearse to bear
the weight of feeling ugly,
the loneliness of despair.

What makes a man 
choose the evil queen?
When the innocent
are forced to suffer the routine

of being the friend,
but never the lover.
Listener of sins,
the perpetual absolver.

Why choose faces caked
by treachery and paint?
The bodies that resemble
all things proclaimed to hate?

Why leave the child
who has never known a man's touch
for the experience of one
who has been touched too much?

Why is the one who believes
in love and trust
left alone in this world
and looked upon with disgust?

Why can't we all be Thumbelina 
and sit on rose petal dreams?
Why don't we dance or sing?
Do we have to know what it means?