Cinderella: Book 1 Chapter 3

Verse 1
She no longer feared the clock striking twelve.

She had no need for any spell-wielding witches or pumpkin carriages.

That is how strong she had become.

"Ah, but then why..." you may ask.

"Why was that damned glass slipper the one thing she didn't toss away?"

Your glass slippers are useless!

Smash 'em! What good are they?

Well, they may prove useful for something.

Oh dear. Is that the maiden's heart coming up for air?

Shut it, doll. You want to die?

Eek! Give the head back!

Verse 2
How it sparkles as the light shines upon it.

My dear, precious glass slipper.

Verse 3
My sisters wanted to wear them so desperately that one chopped off her toes, and the other her heel.

But it did not matter, for it was mine.

Verse 4
No matter how twisted I become...

No matter how sullied my soul...

This slipper will always be pure.

Verse 5
Oh, what a kind, doting prince.

Could it have been anyone, my prince, so long as the slipper fit?

Verse 6
Oh, what a fine, handsome prince.

Were you so blind to your beloved's face that you relied on a slipper fitting?

Verse 7
Oh, what a happy, content prince.

Would you have given up on me had I not dropped my glass slipper?

Verse 8
Oh, what a foolish, idiot prince.

You are truly a dullard, simple and boring.

A puppet hanging from your author's strings.

Verse 9
This glass slipper is proof of me.

A tool that allows me to be me.

That's why they are for no one else.

Verse 10
A woman before me tried the glass slipper on.

It. Is. Mine.

Only I can wear it.

So then... who is she?

Who is that imposter?

Aw, hell. Who gives a rat's ass?

It is mine, after all.

I'll take my time, do it slow...

Then I'll shatter the thief's ankles, glass slippers and all.

It takes guts to wear those shoes.

A revolting look-alike if you ask me!

You even have the same face. Disgusting, isn't it?

Bah! I don't care. It's in my way, so it dies.

Whoa, she really is evil!

As she crushed the corrupt mimic, Cinderella narrowed her eyes.

Even if that thing wasn't real, what the hell was it?

Cinders to cinders.

This body, black with soot, never able to be fair, pitch black suits it.

Ah, but...

Being covered in ash can be so lonesome.

To even it up, I might as well sully the others while I'm at it.

And so the cinder-soiled girl laughed with joy.

Discordant Poem
Even the most depraved have something they hold dear.

Imagine how she would cry if it were to be stolen.

One's treasure is another's desire.

But if anyone steals what's mine, I'll destroy them, treasure and all.

Another Cinderella wore her very precious glass slipper.

So she sliced the poor girl's feet right off for it.