Cinderella was never made of cinders.
She burned her way into this world
Earned her scars, saving it for her abusers
She's a raw, power machine
And the prince doesn't know what's coming.
She was never meant for a husband.
She was never meant to sit
And wear pretty dresses
And sing to her birds
She was meant to rule.
-
She had offered her heart
To the glittering world
And it offered back her mother
In pieces
Gathering her cinders
She did what was only left
She burned
Burned everything to the ground
Fire that shrieked down
The sky red and smoky
And when it was her turn
To give a look,
She just smiled and shook
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The Ghost of an Echo: A Mad Collection of Mad Poet Poetry
PoetryAn absolutely MAD Collection of Poetry by yours truly. Spiral into outer space and ride rollercoasters of mayhem and wonder. Anxiety is real. It's time we talk about it. New poems every week! #1 in whimsy #4 in fantastical
