To Walt Disney

You promised me a fairy tale,
a happily ever after.
Instead I've found, essentially,
an escalating disaster.

Maybe I missed a page somewhere
that held a truer ending?
Did Sleeping Beauty crave an apple
as Prince Charming grew unbending?

Did Cinderella ask her Prince
to please take back that old glass shoe
as the realization struck --
a palace means more work to do?

Did Rapunzel think back fondly
on tower, witch, and thicker hair?
I wonder if she climbed back up
and shaved her head right then and there.

Why did I buy into your tales,
your "happy ending" fantasy?
How could I ever have believed
a man brings more than misery?
And still I hope, with each new frog,
that there might be a Prince for me.