He called me his Black Cinderella
Not by virtue of course
But by vanity, vice and apathy
A cold calculating psychopath, he said
And his bidding I did
With a nonchalant disregard for mercy
And a total disgust for weakness
I failed to not disappoint
So now I sit in a dark and heavy silence,
With knees drawn to a heaving chest
I listen to the beat of my heart
A beat once so steady,
Now an erratic mess of uncertainty
An unsure futility and a vain discrepancy
Of the decorum it held and the hate it spewed
Mumbling in the way that only fear could
The doubtful prayer escapes my lips
Doubtful because if God listened to the heathen
Then a heathen I would cease to be
I tremble, not with fear, but something far worse
A mind at war and a heart in turmoil
A ravaging confusion of right and wrong
Trying to reconcile knowledge with faith
With a soul tainted for eternity
My bare hands drowned in blood
A mother’s son’s blood
A husband’s wife, a family man
They tell me I signed up for the war
And I say there was no war
Just personal favours
For the men in power
To keep the status quo
Survival for the fittest
A species that in the quest for evolution
Has learnt to destroy the very essence
That separated us from the beasts
Not that my ignorance then
Will atone for my fallen brethren
So when I put down my guard
Drop my defences and try to mend the fences
I take off the stained regalia
In jaded resignation and adulterated contrition
I can only surmise that I will suffer my nightmares
Pay my dues to the agitated blood in the soil
And hope that at the end of this all
This Black Cinderella
Will find her glass slipper
