Cinderella

This fact seemed pretty **** self-evident from just about birth on.

I seemed to inconvenience my family, especially my mother.

So with my multitudes of half-sisters

that refused to see me as anything more than just that,

half,

my mother, who was exhausted and

inconvenienced at the sight of me, my will and

my troubled path,

I was a real life Cinderella,

From The Start.

Since I was just there,

my mother figured she might as well use me,

to do her bidding.

I wouldn't be home for weeks and would arrive to an empty,

messy house and a two-page list

of things to do.

Sound familiar?

Just like a fairytale, huh?

So I ask, where's my fairy godmother,

and my glass slipper along with the Prince Charming,

to make sure it fits?

And my mouse helpers,

to make cakes and dresses with me?

Well I might not have a fairy godmother or a glass slipper,

and I'm still missing the **** mice,

but I just might have found,

My Prince...

Request permission to use this poem