Stepsister
Cramp down. Contract. Force it.
Draw the laces tighter,
cut off the offending pieces.
Shrink to fit this life, this prince,
but midnight comes, as it always does,
and those gossip-birds betray the truth,
the bronze clanging of a thousand tongues.
Tear off the mask from flinching eyes,
the savage beaks devouring sight.
Bite your tongue. You were born to this.
In the end, there is always blood in the shoe.
Draw the laces tighter,
cut off the offending pieces.
Shrink to fit this life, this prince,
but midnight comes, as it always does,
and those gossip-birds betray the truth,
the bronze clanging of a thousand tongues.
Tear off the mask from flinching eyes,
the savage beaks devouring sight.
Bite your tongue. You were born to this.
In the end, there is always blood in the shoe.
