Time-bomb by Emily Townsend

Look – it’s me again

Churning the barrels of time like an ancient clockwork mouse

Dickory, Cinderella,

Midnight’s fresh air bounds me to a staple, a house

A glass slipper shimmering in a Dorset window,

Fitting only one perfect in matrimony for its maker,

Only her sisters wouldn’t wager,

How long it would take to break her

Again, the ticking starts –

An abhorrent rush, a fate that may twist,

Happy ever afters and good will,

We beg the answer –

Desperately question, may it always, come to this

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