Cinderella

The clock strikes twelve –
an unforgiving knife edge splitting today and yesterday.
The fleeting illusion shattered,
nothing but a fragile reminder of yesterday left behind.
The spell breaks, and I am left standing, cold,
staring into a shattered mirror of my own failures.
I trip, tumbling down step after step until I reach the bottom,
a crumpled heap.
Sinking lower, reaching out,
tracing the shattered remains of something once so beautiful.
My fingers grab onto nothing but glittering dust,
trying to piece back what had been lost.
For a fleeting second, I see it, what could have been my salvation.
Take me away, please.
But my life is no fairy tale, and
there exists no Prince Charming that can put me back together.
I am not her.
No wand will wave my sadness away, and I tumble,
not towards my happily ever after, but deeper into the heavy abyss,
a reminder that midnight always comes.