Not So Cinderella

It's been 10 years since my dad died; or should i say murdered. 10 years since my dad was poison by my wicked stepmother. 10 years I’ve been living with my wicked sisters and mother in my dad's castle; confined to my own room. Isolated from society; from the outside, stuck inside the padded walls of my old attic. Listening to my own breathing hoping one day it’ll all just stop. Hearing laughing and talking as a family; while i lay still and silent to not let others hear me. So used to hearing the story of a wealthy girl who ran away with a prince to live happily ever after. “Cinderella is what they call her; or me”, but who would of knew that the stories and tales was all a lie. Trapped inside my own thoughts, listening to my own rodents as they kept me company; inside of my safe haven. Who would of knew when i tried to come clean about who killed my dad i be blamed. That when i exposed my stepmother i be the one taking the hit; three against one like it's always been. Just the spoiled princess who always cleaned and cooked while they did nothing. If only i could've seen how the princess name Cinderella would've turned out; maybe i wouldn't be trapped to this table. Everyday with needles inside of me; while they forced me to take these pills. I would've never told of that night when she raised the cup to his lips; i would of never spoke of my friends in the wall. Just maybe i would've never had to be bound to this chair. Watching the news from a crack screen; as people come and go; of the articles of a not so Cinderella. The deranged and insane princess who thoughts got entangled with her fears that lead her to insanity. Awaiting in a padded cell before the sparks that once built me; over floods my blood destroying everything in its power. So tell me is this my happy ever after; is this where my story end or began. Maybe i was delusional or some of the stories was truthful. But i remember it so clearly the magic godmother and the wishes. My dad and my stepmother. I was up or maybe i was dreaming; or like my stepmother calls it imagining. So i accepted this reality and realize no prince or magic can save me. So today i’ll just dream my last moments away.


Grant-Grey Porter Hawk Guda

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