Okay, what should I improve, what should I change, any errors here and there, doesn't make sense? should I convert into metaphor, different semantic fields.
Basically, please give me feedback, this will count towards my final grade soon.
TRAPPED
Scarlet wine streamed down into the elegant glass, like a waterfall that raced down in a series of cascades. With fine chamfered edges, this glassware, is only fit for a king as I served my consort with a fake smile. Quickly, I turn away only to find myself to more pain; my blocked emotions of despair and anguish concealed from the people around me. Wealthy guests everywhere, enjoying the opulent comfort of a glass of silk wine as I serve them.
A tear emerges from my fluttering teary eyes and at once, comes crashing down on to the polished stove, my eyelids drowning in sorrow, in pain and in agony. My voice, lifelessly mute and my throat, supressed. My arms weakened from all the servitude and my aching, tired muscles are always numb. I am brainwashed to the point where the feeling of liberation no longer exists, but only pain is normal to me. I scrub and swipe clean the china plate recklessly till I am boiling up inside, full of vengeance and rage. Yet I still am trapped and my fears are larger than my seething hatred.
The kitchen, dirty and unclean. This is my home where I am treated like I belong here. Tossed around and used like a rag. The murmur in the ballroom can be heard behind the door, another reality where everything is passion and happiness. Here, I feel pain, sadness and rage but slight peace. I open the cupboard that makes a croaking sound, like a person, strangled around the neck, gasping for freedom and release and trapped in world of lies and fake smiles. The door keeps me shut away from the humans and I am alone like a plate in a cupboard.
Candlelight flames hit the chandelier and innumerable shards of crystals light the vast expanse of the floor, a sea of sparkling diamonds. Sweet melody of the grand piano submerge with the other noises in the ballroom. The smell of freshly cooked steak rose up to my nose as I carry it to the rich men, carefully avoiding contact with expensive outfits of men compared to my rags. I place the plate gently on the table, give them my fake smile, and nor do any of them dare to show any recognition to me; camouflaged with no identity. We are Obscene to society, seen as garbage that dance on sidewalks and seen as only harlots and maids.