Long overdue.
CINDERELLA:
She curls her hair and pins them up,
And puckers her lips at the mirror.
Eyeliner upon eyeliner she coats them on,
Squinting nearer and nearer.
She tries on fifty dresses a day,
Trying to see which suits her best.
Maybe this ribbon would go with this scarf;
It must all be perfect, because this isn’t a test.
She parades on her heels in her hall,
Strutting like the models out there.
She twists and swishes the folds of her skirts,
Happy as a lark without a care.
She glances at the mirror once more,
And realizes that she doesn’t look perfect enough.
She pulls the skin on her stomach,
And she decides that it’s too much.
So she diets, and tries on the dresses,
And she smiles as she looks prettier.
She puts on the eyeliner and winks,
Now, she looks much sweeter.
Twelve o’clock chime, and she’s Cinderella,
She gathers her skirts and runs back.
She strips down to nothing,
Pulls on her sloppy jeans and her turtleneck.
She removes every bit of make-up,
And pulls her hair straight.
She walks out bare-faced and ashamed,
Her heart bursting with spite and hate.
She walks out of the house,
A shadow of her former self.
Because she doesn’t trust herself enough,
Or anyone else for help.