Am I real enough? My makeup sits on brown skin, as smooth as Charmeuse silk Hair wavy like my mother’s body and long like a stream going through an empty castle. Am I real enough? This ain’t no disguise, but if it was, could you see through me like I’m a glass figurine? Could you see that my chest leaves an empty space in my corset. Am I real enough? As I go into battle with silver daggers for hands, watch me slice through my enemies. Their bodies are nothing But, lightweight fabric. They shall never dare question my right to the throne again. I am real enough, and in the ballroom I am a peacock fluttering my feathers over my blown-out head, and I’m such a beautiful creature you wonder if I'm even real.
