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Cinderella Oct. 12, 2001 ] 2:18 AM The light bleeds white static: A whitewash of the greying world Masking the senses into blind sight While the low croon of the clock Moans a seduction at twelve. The chime of glass on glass Mimics the breaths of terror Desperate and harsh, As the girl whirls and runs, Chime upon chime upon chime. She wavers between life and death; He loses her despite the moon. Yet she is in a cycle she cannot break A bleak void where dreams die In the border between light and light A made fairytale. She will clutch her shining shoe And return to the shining world And she will bleed red blood Until it runs white once more. In third draft stage. Third of three Cinderella poems I wrote. I think the first was better; it had more emotion and was more symbolic. The second was published. wax ] wane