A fairy tale princess who never was,

Sits alone in darkness.

Each night stretches into years,

With only brief pin pricks of light,

To alleviate the heaviness.

This weight is almost too much to bear,

Yet, bear it she does as she pretends to grin.


She is the Cinderella who never went to the ball,

Listening to echoes of a clock striking midnight.

Twelve chimes in the distance,

An auditory reminder,

Of a dream that never began.

And a young girl covered in ashes,

Knows this life is as good as it gets.



I hope you enjoyed this poem.

Feel free to leave a comment in my forum.


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