Hidden Beneath the Ashes

She reeks of pine-sol.

Fingers bleed from scrubbing

Dirty tubs and urine stained basins.

She hums to herself,

Remembering better days.

People step over her

As if she is nothing.

She fights back tears,

But they spatter on the floor.

One more mess to clean up

While beautiful words

Form in her mind.

She finishes her work

And finds a pen and pad,

Writing feverishly,

Lest someone discover

That she is more

Than a Cinderella girl.