The Ball That Never Comes

In the quiet shadows, beneath the moonlit sky,

Dwells the heart of many, asking the timeless "Why?"

Dressed in rags of expectation, burdened by role,

Longing for a moment when the world would console.

So many stories served in gilded frames,

While mine lingers unnoticed, washed away by mundane.

Comparisons haunt me like whispers in the night,

Is my life a fairytale, or is it void of light?

I sweep the floor and tend to the hearth,

While dreams of a ball dance through my heart.

Dressed in aprons, hands worn and tired,

I wait for a moment when my soul feels inspired.

The clock ticks on, echoing those dreams,

A longing for magic, woven through silent screams.

But life has its rhythm, a predictable beat,

In a world filled with chaos, I find no retreat.

Look into the mirror, what do you see?

Perhaps a glimpse of who you could be.

Like Cinderella’s slipper, it feels just out of reach,

Connected to greatness, yet deprived of each speech.

The reflection holds secrets that beauty cannot reveal,

The heart's hidden fractures, wounds that won’t heal.

I strive for perfection, yet stumble in shame,

With flaws unconfessed in a world that feels same.

“Keep dreaming,” voices whisper, “Your time will appear.”

Yet the struggle feels heavy, filled with doubt and fear.

Am I not deserving of the crown and the grace?

Is my value defined by the paths that I trace?

In an age of grand tales, why don’t I feel whole?

Like Cinderella trapped within her projected role.

The weight of expectations, a constant refrain,

In the search for acceptance, I feel only pain.

Yet in the stillness, an ember ignites,

A flicker of hope, breaking through the nights.

No fairy godmother or magical spells,

But resilience grows stronger, within me it dwells.

In the battles I face, I learn and I grow,

Taking small steps, the unknown I bestow.

For change is a journey, not a mere glimpse,

My own story intertwined, no more a pretense.

And when I find courage, I learn to embrace,

The beauty in flaws, the strength in my pace.

I’ll dance in my truth, let the world take note,

No longer a shadow, just a ship on her boat.

As I twirl through the dance floors of time,

I rediscover my rhythm, my own personal rhyme.

My story is evolving, the chapters unfold,

In the tapestry woven, pure and bold.

In the end, I realize the tale that is mine,

Not a copy of others, but uniquely designed.

Like Cinderella, I may wear my fair share of scars,

But they mark my journey, my dance among stars.

Life’s not just a tale of wishes on high,

It’s the grit and the grind, the lows and the flies.

So here I stand, without glass slippers or crown,

In the warmth of authenticity, I will never drown.