Tales from the Cinders

The cemetery is here, dim and silent,
Along this scarcely lit corridor stood only memorials and statues,
I am amidst ashen zombies, rigid and strict…
Those are the people who live only for the titles, rules, protocols… laws.
Though the people who promised me a lifetime of servitude now knows what serving really means,
And those who have judged me for what they see is now being judged for their every move,
I am still neither humming with contentment nor joyful with contagious excitement for I am alone.
The crackling flames that had once warmed my heart had been long gone.
The rigidity of this household had frozen it together with my soul.
I turned to look at my one true love, but nothing aside from cold heaven’s breath touched my face.
And then I noticed the glass slipper that triggered it all,
It is still there, rooted to its place, with nowhere to go and nowhere to turn.
I felt so lowly for I am but a shoe –
Beautiful, groomed for perfection, yet alone, enclosed … lonely …
Like a show, being watched from afar — within a glass case.