A prince.
A princess.
A far away place.
A scream.
She runs.
With an open can of mace.
He's hurt.
At his lost dreams.
He cries.
All he had ever wanted.
Slipping away.
Right before his eyes.
He should have asked.
Should have talked to her before.
Asking her for her hand.
So that somehow.
Somewhere.
She would understand.
He wasn't just any prince.
He was hers.
Till death do us part.
And all of that jazz.
He wanted her hand in marriage.
And then her heart.
But she had run.
Kicking and screaming.
From what was destined to be.
Afraid of commitment.
The fear of what was to come.
Of what she couldn't see.
She was running from a future.
Of possible happiness.
From joy.
Running from a future.
That may be terrible.
From an unknown boy.
But little did he know.
That day she yelped and flew.
He had planted a seed of doubt.
In her flawless plan.
To never love.
But she took a different route.
He had left her wondering.
Thinking to herself.
If he had been right all along.
If she had thought wrong.
Or instead of being alone all the time,
there were two parts to her song?
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