Cinderella ain't a name for a princess

By Geneviève Dallaire


Tough.
She goes through hell every day.
Indulging herself in pain.
Counting every gram, bit, piece, liter.

They taught her : "no pain, no gain."
She took their word for cash.
Thought they offered her a good deal.
Made it a part of her.

First sign of madness,
She complains to her own self.
Whining about nothing especially.
Everything in general.

Stuck in a meaningless body.
Stuck with an overfunctionning mind.
Stuck with opinions her peers reject.
Alone, dreaming of peace, calm and serenity.

They taught her to fight and aggress.
To hate and let go.
For bad and for worse.
'till death tears her apart.

She becomes mechanical.
Loves nothing but liberty made out of tomb stones.
Back in the future. Forward in the past.
Where is her place in life ?

She cries.
All she has left.
All she hasn't given up yet.
All she cares about.

One day her Prince will come.
"Yeah, right.", she says.
Why would he ?
Why would he like this princess in dirty white ?

Overdoses of chemicals and electrons
Of radioactive substances and X-rays,
Of the love they call sex and alcohol,
Her heart ain't blue.

"Sky is the limit", they said.
But what does she do when she wants to be down-to-earth ?
She can't. She won't.
They didn't teach her how nor why she could. She should.

Tired. She takes another dose
Hoping to die from it.
But you can't be killed by knowledge.
They taught her that, unfortunately.

Only a lack of it could.
She stops all she does.
Lays on her back, tries to forget all she knows.
Waiting for death to come.
They didn't teach her that.
She is free.


The Creator's Page 1