Drizella's Version of Cinderella

By Chaitanyaa Singh

My dear Cinderella was 

Not the dearest to me.

She seemed innocent,

 To everyone who heard her plea.

Her twisted traits 

Were never to be known.

Only her sugar-coated,

 Venomous character was shown.

She claimed herself

 As a slave of ours,

Although she was an OCD patient, 

Spiralling for hours.

People saw her as a 

Poor orphan girl.

But she was utterly wicked, 

Always tripping me in a swirl.

She stole my prince,

 My love of life — forever.

He couldn’t see me the way he used to 

— the old Drizella, never ever.

I was never jealous,

I just hoped for what was mine.

But maybe God never wanted

The fate to walk in my sign.

In the end, my beloved prince died

And the crown was passed on her head, adorned.

I don’t even know

 If she actually ever mourned.

She was not human-like,

Capable of loving someone .

And I know this version of Cinderella

Would stick to  — none.

By Chaitanyaa Singh