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Cinderella

My personal stage
She was certain
Today would not be
My closing curtain
My fear
Before long
She would see
She is wrong
Listen to the crowd
Standing proud
One voice
Above all others
My mother’s
Screaming and
Shouting
Jumping
Twisting
Turning
Crashing and
Burning
Starting to
Fall
Losing it all
Hearing a sound
Banging her fist
On the ground
Sighing
Crying
Struggling to stop the tears
Adding to
Failures from
Past years
My defeat
Battle ended
Dignity
Pride
Undefended
My perseverance
Wasted
Victory
Never tasted
So as I sit here in my solitary gloom
Coach says “grab a broom”





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ShernayB. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jan. 23, 2010 at 2:52 pm
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOW! Im loving the flow in this.
 
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