You envision me as a fragile vase,
A delicate thing, easily broken.
I wasn't Cinderella, so you forced me
To wear the shoes that didn't fit.

You paint me with dark strokes, bold and unforgiving,
Every shade to set the tone of my tale.
Then you enscript it into your finest descriptions,
A narrative of sorrow, a life frail.

When I begged to stay in your favor,
My soul worn thin, my heart heavy,
You saw me as a mistake you couldn't erase,
A blemish on your perfect canvas.

You juggled my fate in the palm of your hands,
Every word that left your mouth laced with venom.
Yes, I could hear the words, clear and cold,
Reverberating in my head, a haunting refrain.

You branded me a failure on paper,
Made curses out of my prayers.
"God, what did I do to deserve this?"
I cried, but you remained unmoved.

To be worthy of love, I had to win accolades,
Prove my worth in your eyes, a constant test.
You covered up your animosity with a blanket,
A thin veil for the hatred you possessed.

At least you had a place to sleep, as they say,
But I was left to face the darkness each day.
You employed perfumes to mask your scorn,
But I could smell the venom, sharp and born.

You put me in a prison with chains,
Then claimed the world was unkind.
"Stay put," you said, laying spikes in the road,
"Escape, and you'll find only sorrow's abode."

You presented me with wilted roses,
A hollow gesture, a love long gone.
© -Sammie