Disillusionment
Death of the Fairy Tale
There it lay in jagged shards about my feet:
My shattered vision of what wasn’t.
Rosy-hued like glasses, a stained-glass image of my life
Conceptions of myself, my God, my Love in bitter fragments, too.
Woe to she who sleeps too long, too deep, wakes too late
Wakes to find her world has slipped through her fingers
And shattered like her fragile heart into a thousand pieces.
Where is the cosmic super glue to piece this brittle life together?
What would Cinderella have done
If her glass slippers had cracked?
