I am her sister, I cut myself for you—
changed my shape, sliced my dancing feet
to fit into that crystal slipper.
So tell me
I’m the one, the special girl you’ve
been searching for—not an imposter
but the real thing.
“Look at all this blood,
you say, “how could you do such a thing?
My real love has dainty feet and only she
will fit; this red sign tells me you
are not the one.”
Should I feel sorry that you
turn away—my pale sister inclining her head,
hiding her face in her long, long hair, riding
before you, prince, on your horse so white, up
to the silver castle—and I am left here
to sweep up the ashes.