The History of Madness and its Applications

I wanted to leave this family since nine

I yearn for the ray of light outside.

As I see Cinderella’s cropped curls once again tousled,

Tangled

From my mother’s grip.

Her head follows the path drawn by the neatly trimmed

Fingers of my mother.

Like how the warm, glowing full moon

Violently drags the high tides up an askew coast. 

Cinderella’s gaze meets my eyes

She probably wonders how I can be so

Indifferent--

To the sight of her damaged body,

The striking scars at the back of her right thigh.

Perhaps she knows well my desire to help,  

And that one day I will stop becoming

The coward that I am.  

My step-sister stares at me today as well,

Hoping for my intervention and aid, to stop her

Victimization.

Look away.

I whisper forgive me, as her eyes shut passively.

I continue everyday,

So that my own mother’s claws will not enslave

Me.

Tomorrow the Prince will arrive, with a glass slipper for all to try.

If there is a fairy godmother, I wish for feet--

Just like hers

Time has proven that wishes cannot change reality

Time has taught me to live on the boundary of denial.

I have to escape

From this state of limbo.

The price of mutilation for the prize of freedom,

And control of my own life.

Once again, I turn away from Cinderella

Ignoring the echoes of compassion,

Rejecting the mirrored image of expression,

I let my calluses grow.

Tomorrow I will replace her as his bride

And I hope to find tranquility in madness.