I wish Arendelle was real,
And not a frozen dream.
Everyday I check the post box.
Only to find unpaid bills,
And cozy spider webs ,
But no letter from Hogwarts.
I wish I could shrink,
And become the four-feet me,
Of a yonder age,
That was nothing but a fairy tale.
Maybe I am unstuck in time,
Waiting to board the flying saucer to Tralfamadore.
Hearing this, they sigh,
And whisper among themselves,
“Rambles of a troubled mind.”
They think I am immature.
Living inside paperbacks
That loves me more
Than Romeo loved Juliet.
They roar and scream
That Santa is an illusion,
And Dumbledore is as dead as a doornail.
So it goes.
It just goes to the past and stays there.
Never daring to come back.
Because Big Brother is always watching.
And he doesn’t like roses,
And fairy tales that make your hearts melt like Cadbury in summer.
But I do,
So, I am going to run away and drown
In a sea of fantasy.
Waving my final goodbyes,
And giggling like mad,
At a lot of shocked imbeciles,
Staring at me with dropped jaws.
Now it’s up to you, dear reader
To decide who is mad
And who is dead to life,
And all the baggage that comes with it.
Shivani Krishnakumar is an undergraduate student of history honours with a deep penchant for the subaltern past and the world of words. She evades the clock by dabbling on Canva or filling her notes with broken snippets of accidental poetry and plot twists. Her affinity for writing and learning about culture, heritage, current affairs, gender, religion and other subjects is beyond measure.
Featured image: Warner Bros.