They never let me play Cinderella.
Your cheeks are not peaches and cream, they said,
To sway the heart of the prince away.
We want that twinkle of the eye,
That perfect demure sigh.
We all want to see that sway of the hips, That tender quivering of the lips.
They never let me play Cinderella.
You are not fit to court the prince,
they said,
To be worthy of the kingdom's awe & praise.
We want to see that coy flirtatious smile,
That's perfect, amiable and docile.
They never let me play cinderella.
You don't walk with the ladylike grace,
To attract the Prince's dreamy gaze.
You need to wear that perfect dress that is all set to impress.
Embrace the pain to carry of the perfectly curvaceous corset, the pointy little shoe and the perfectly manicured nails, those luscious locks all set adorn the crown,
you need to be perfect, hence my dear, you are not ready to play cinderella, they said.
But I ain't the damsel in distress
who yearns a part to play of the princess.
For the Cinderella in me does not conform on what she is supposed to be.
The conviction in my eyes,
The confidence in my stride.
The yearning in my heart to be the heroine of my life,
That's the script of the story I want to write.
So what if they never let me play Cinderella,
For all you know, Cinderella never wanted to play that part herself,
To endlessly wait for the prince, helplessly to be subject to the entire world's whims,
Silently waiting to be picked, to be chosen, to be made to feel worthy by some entitled prince?
For all she had to do was to look deeply within,
And she would have known that she was fit to be the the queen even without the king.
