Cinderella mops the floors.

Cinderella has more chores

To pamper, aid, and then protect

The evil sisters that make her a wreck.

Smiling through a crowd of tears,

She hands them dresses as they cheer.

The night of the ball brings them sweet glee,

But Cinderella tries to plea.

Thinking of dancing with the prince of her dreams,

She’s shoved away by sisters awfully mean.

Stepmother Tremaine has no brain,

But ill words progress like a freight train.

Words sting like a hot branding iron,

But a knife makes her feel something, almost like fire.

She watches crimson drip off her flesh,

Showing no concern for a pretty dress.

Starving left her feeling full,

But she’s treating herself rather cruel.

Cinderella drops to the floor.

Cinderella can do no more.

Her fairy godmother finds her by the door

Because hurtful words are worse than war.

Bullying spreads like a disease.

                   Cinderella dead trying to appease.