I chanced upon a masquerade,
The costumes were elaborate,
The masks were impenetrable,
I stood beneath the mirrored ceiling,
And saw nothing at all.
Laughter echoed around me,
Cheerful voices rang through the air,
The happiness could be seen and felt,
Yet, the spindle held me in place,
Forbidding me to feel anything.
I trailed along the edge of the crowd,
Dancing through the shadows,
Expertly twirling as the dance required,
My eyes fell upon the blood red apple,
And the mask became suffocating.
I stumbled away in terror,
My arms wrapped around me protectively,
I tripped over the hidden loom,
That was weaving my deepest fears,
Not allowing me to escape.
The Prince walked across the ballroom,
His mask as perfect as my own,
He knelt before me gracefully,
Though the offering broke my heart,
For the glass slipper did not fit.