I was born a girl whose parent's died. Then given to others whose social status was high. Papa, the king, but died in war. Mama, the queen, who didn't marry more. An eternal scowl upon her face as she kept her daily pace. Hair pinned high upon her head. "Do this!" "Do that!" She constantly said and when I'd do one thing wrong she'd scold me, yelling "Cinderella!", for hours long. And once she was done with what she said I'd get back to work again. But one day I got fed up. Ran up my tower and closed the door up. My window, the only way out but Mama barged in, stopping in mid-shout. But I just turned back and smiled and then I fell a thousand miles. And I lay among the trees my spirit, at last, forever free.
