Cindrella syndrome

1 0 0
                                    



Do you know her?

She, who hallucinates to wander around the illusory wonders before her eyes.

She, who'll steal the colours from the springing butterflies.

Do you know her?

She'll mock away the hatred. She'll bring home peace.

She'll caress the chirping birds. She'll shelter the swooning bees.

So what if, the pebbles poke and bleed the tissues underneath her feet?

So what if her 'consent', her 'to-do-will' has been forcefully trapped under the pessimistic weeds?

Yet she'll smile on the vision of her man stealing her away from her reveries;

His fingertips touch her eyelids as her lips are gently pressed against his-

And later the sheath of empathy passionately enfolded between the layers of intimacy.

Her happiness is like that missing glass slipper-

That her prince will return to her and take her away to that realm of ecstasy -

In the chariot laden with castle-high dreams.

Do you know her?

Yes, you do.

You've seen her do the dishes: You've seen her cook the delicacies-

You've seen her getting hit every day,

Or sometimes molested by the streets.

Her henna-coated hands, the bangles on her wrists:

Her dreams are destined to be ripped off from all her extravagancy.


~Cindrella syndrome

An Aurora over the SkylineWhere stories live. Discover now