Outside the Dirt Castle

In a palace painted of blues and shadows;

With walls too long deprived of radiance;

I, on a throne of lead and papers;

Left with no sense of time, or any;

Leaving hunger, the teller of passing time;

Heavy, my growing crown of thread is heavy;

Dusts that glimmer and veil my beauty;

Hey, Mr. Puppet, does it suit me?

I too would know but all is shaded;

As I look to the sky of bricks and binder;

Crumble, grind and tumble upon the roofing;

A disk with five oblongs, descending;

Must this be a hand? Oh, Good Fortune!

At last, a guest; a human, perhaps;

Pardon stands upon the midnight's open lid;

This young man clad in shining metal clothing;

Pulled me out and brought me to dawning;

Light pierced from behind sailing cottons;

I'm no princess; a shame, a bother;

My palace was but a hole under a boulder;

Puppets steered by my self-brought, weak delusions;

Fixed jams from moss and purple wormies;

A kingdom built upon soil and dirt;

Truth is nothing but an ugly farce;

When knowledge I didn't have, has made me scarce.

Credits to Regine and Renz for lending a hand <3. My purple wormies.