The Stories I Tell Myself

London fog pulls hard on the heels of shoes two sizes too small. They weren't meant to last this long, especially in bad weather. But I imagine myself a spy; the fog and cold are trifles.

Miss Minchin doesn't like the look on my face when I return from my errand. She tells me so. It does not matter. She cannot stop me from being the heroine in my own story.

The hard world insists
the stories I tell myself
are lies. All that they are -
my foolish, cherished daydreams -
grow to feed my hope filled heart.

Song Choice:  Fight Song by Rachel Platten 

This poem was created for a prompt given at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads: Rhubarb. We were asked to write from the perspective of a favorite childhood character. It was tough picking just one! But finally I decided on Sarah Crewe from A Little Princess by Francis Hodgson Burnett.