Not an Ordinary Fairy Tale

Her fingers burned with bleach

As her stepmother forced her

To wash away her past.

But no matter how much she washed,

The tyrant was never happy.



Her ears ringed with Creole

As the foreign invaders chattered

Imposing their culture.

But no matter how loud they spoke,

The house would never be their home.



Her eyes were lidded with grief

As she vainly wished her mother was there

To hold and raise her.

But no matter how hard she wished,

The dead never came back to life.



Her hands moved with inspiration

As she turned her pain

Into something more than emotion.

But no matter how well she wrote,

The words were never satisfying.



Her feet were guided with hope

As her father forged a slipper

So she could find herself.

But no matter how immaculate the shoe,

The girl never felt deserving.



Her stomach turned with anticipation

As she thought about the ball

Where she could get away.

But no matter how far she travels,

The fingers, ears, eyes, hands, and feet, can’t forget.