A Cliche Of A Sonnet: The Princess And The Pauper Poem by Daniel Brady

As children, we would say our forevers
Beneath the sun; cradled by its warmness.
Each child is as another to a child;
Rank or station does not thwart endeavours
Such as love. And we loved within this formless
Society of youth; vibrant and wild.

Impaled on fame by virtue of her beauty
She came to the world as a perfect whole.
She forced herself to stand and do her duty,
And tore herself to pieces, falling down
Onto her bare, white knees with hyperbole,
To scream her pain across the leaden roll
Of night-blackened waves, advancing endlessly,
For there, before the sea, she bore no crown.