I didn’t recognize the person in the mirror
Glaring back with a silent sort of cry
I saw only mixtures of hopeless clichés
Mixed together by the childhood movies I loved

I see a face I’ve long despised
A body I’ve tried so hard to perfect
Arms covered in my now public secret
And eyes that seem to have lost the glow

Once my smile was real
My secrets were few
And life was a breeze
Why did these childhood joys end?

I grew up wanting to be a princess
Or I hero from a story
Whatever happened must, of course, be
Only complete with a happy ending

The person in the stories has found me
But not in the way I dreamed
Looking in the mirror I see everything else
But the person I should be

I am Cinderella, dreaming of any world away from here
I am Ariel, hoarding up treasures from a fantasy world I need
I am Simba, hiding from my past
Belle, always reading
Snow White, thinking that if I just wait my prince will come
Rupunzel(okay, I’m not really like Rupunzel I just wanted to include her)
Peter Pan, doing anything I can to escape from adulthood
The Wicked Queen, obsessed with perfection and trying to be beautiful
Stitch hunting for love
And Mulan trying to make my family proud

I’m all of these things
All of these people
I guess I’m wondering
If this is true
Where the hell is my happy ending?