Sewing Mends the Soul

Tiny, slender frame could have bent and broke like branches,
a blond mop dripped from her head.
She tried some earrings but the looks just made her anxious,
and she quietly wished she stayed in bed.

Her clothing hung like rags from her delicate shoulders,
and her soles were flat and often worn.
Every morning she woke up and tried something new.
But nothing made it through the door.

I spent my time with a needle and a bobbin,
sewing my soul into a shape,
and with my brush I paint a smile from my inside,
until my outsides looked the same.

I never thought of myself as a princess but,
I never thought of myself much at all.
Now with a scissor and a wand I’ve started transformation,
and I’m standing straight and tall.

Who knew me at all, who knew but I?
Now that I’ve become dressed in my affection.
Now that I’ve slowly changed my mind,
I can see Cinderella in my reflection.

This poem is about: 
Me

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