Cinderella

*Step-mother gives her version of events*

Cinderella, Cinderella

Poor girl, I hear you say.

Made to live up in the attic

Not allowed to sit, or stay.

She cooks, she cleans, mops and washes.

Her hands are red and sore.

She brushes up the coal and ashes!

Really? Shall I tell you more?

Oh, yes, kind folk, you've heard the 'truth',

The one she likes to tell,

Our Cinderella is fiercely clever,

A storyteller is our girl.

~

You see, our beauty was spoiled from birth.

Her mother doted all day

Upon our Cinders, her only child,

She'd scream 'til she got her way.

Poor woman created her own little monster

But died, leaving father to care.

And now, I'm her guardian, sharing parenting, oh yes

It's sometimes too much to bear!

You see, 'little Cinders' has got a new job

She's an 'Influencer', I think you'll have seen,

Telling stories of woe, about me, her old foe

About how I'm so terribly mean!

~

She gets money to claim she loves this, she loves that,

Her face and her make-up are perfect!

They send her new shoes, a bag or a dress

To picture herself when she wears it.

She has lots of cash, followers and tags,

The money, we'll see none of.

My daughters try kindness, try to include her,

But Cinders just gives them the brush off.

~

She mocks them online, cries crocodile tears,

Pretends they treat her so badly.

But she's the real diva! Oh, she really is!

But poor Daddy he loves her so, madly.

Her lovely boyfriend, Prince, is his name,

Lives quite under her shadow.

Scared to say 'no', or tell her she's wrong,

Any actually, she would get mad, though.

~

The life of step-mother is hard, it's exhausting,

Managing Cinders cannot be achieved.

But I'm the real 'bad one, isn't that true?

Or so stories would have you believe.