Cinderella's knuckles were raw and bleeding

why, oh why, did her father marry that witch?

evil to the core. And her step-sisters – mean

and nasty, threw clothes on the floor in heaps

Cinderella picked them up and spit on them

little bits of drool speckling their garments

even had to clean their filthy bathrooms

used their toothbrushes, replaced in holder

what had she ever done to deserve this?

Well, she’d get even – she would get the prince!

Some weird fairy godmother came to visit

waved her wand, poof, and there was her dress

Cinderella carefully washed ashes from her spirit

slipped on diaphanous gown so fine and fancy

kissed new slippers good luck, slipped them on.

Her candle had waned and no flicker remained

to see that she had chosen one perfect slipper

and one ragged one that her evil sisters

had handed down to her, faces in sneers

she scampered to the ball with fast feet

it was a long way but, alas, her fairy godmother

had forgotten to arrange transportation

even an old pumpkin would have done

she lifted the hem of her dress and wiped

the tears from her eyes and worry from body.

she was flabbergasted when she saw the prince

across the room in his fine woven gold raiment

and oh, that body, she’d lie down with him for sure

the minute she got her chance, forget about marriage

the tingles of her want began low and coursed upward

she could hardly walk, her lust was boiling over

I want his royal tongue exploring my every secret

I’ll show those wicked step-sisters. I’m prettier than they

who do they think they are? Her anger bubbled out.

I’ll have to put my hostility on the back burner for now.

The charming Prince eyeballed her from across the room

protocol was to ask her to dance but he’d rather bed her

taking her in his arms, he whirled her around dance floor

heat and shape of her body enticed him, but King was looking

beady eyes following his every move, but he stealthily

managed to slip his hand under the hem of her gown

alas, she knew her fairy godmother had told her

to leave by midnight or she would be naked at the feast

and her underwear was different colors, didn’t match

it would be a catastrophe if she had to go to the hospital

she remembered that her dead mother used to tell her this!

She ran outside but, again, the godmother had slacked off

on the transportation, so she had to run all the way home

lost one of her shoes which the prince held high.

But drats, it was the ragged one –the one for everyday

it didn’t really fit her because it was a hand-me-down.

Later, the prince tried to fit the frayed slipper on her foot

“She’s cute,” he said, “but if it doesn’t fit, I must acquit”

She ran home in tears and sobbed all night in her misery

she had committed an extreme fashion faux-pas

her shoes didn’t match, the fashion police wouldn’t approve.

The next morning, she returned to normal, fixed oatmeal

for her step-sisters and stepmother, stirred in poison

lucky for her father, he thought oatmeal was for peasants

but as for the rest, they all died a perfect agony of revenge.

The moral of this story is be careful who you faux-pas!

She Cried

Black Leather

For

any Weather

the Tinier

& Tighter

the Better

She Swore

She Was

No Whore

the Skimpy

Dress

& Ample

Flesh

Just Made

the Work

Wetter

Eyes

On Her

Tits

As

She Made

Those Hits

Then

She Would

Put On

a Sweater

#B27321

Her hair fell in curls all around her baby face, a bright lopsided smile lit up the room as she sat there in her hot pink dress that was covered in polka dots and zebra stripes and several other prints. The dress by its self could make you wish you were blind, but on her it seemed to fit so perfectly. So unique and chaotic in all its own beauty, as a reflection of her own personality. Yes on her it was every bit as vibrant as she.

Draping down from her shoulders,

a worn woolen shawl,

a mix-and-matched slouchy hat,

to set it all off.

Wind tangled hair,

dirty flat feet,

looks like a dark pair of toe shoes,

and a bun that's unneat.

Wishing you could be her yet?

That style, that physique.

Here's the deal maker,

she's skinnier than you or than me.

I do not think she notices though,

her quite baggy t-shirt and ragged jeans,

All she notices are that of her fashionista dreams.

It was a warm summer day,

So Robert had to display

His truly unique sense of fashion. 

He thought to himself,

As he scoured his shelf

"I want to look really dashing."

He saw a classy red shirt,

Thought it looked like dirt,

So he threw it on the floor.

A polka-dot polo,

Orange and purple, but yolo!

At least he wouldn't look like a bore!

He found some shorts that were green,

With yellow stripes, oh how mean!

Those were perfect for him!

He then grabbed a blue sweater,

"Oh great, that looks better!"

Robert must be a bit dim. 

Some red crocs on the side,

Those shoes were trying to hide!

But Robert wore them anyway.

Then he went out,

And without a doubt

He appeared the most insane person that day.