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Crappy poem thing...
Round and round in circles, then a perfect pas de chat...
Pretty skeleton dancing till she drops down dead.
How do those stalks support her?
No weight left to bear, dropping off her like the burdens
she makes herself forget.

And...she's fading, fading away with the withering
flowers, left behind from the good old summer days.
She wears her pure white tutu, but with shame not pride,
the virginal white she wears is just another lie.

Years have passed since he first asked to see her dance,
and the blood and the bruises from that day have
long since faded away...
But the memories remain, and he still asks for dances but
now she has a friend.

If your scarred and too thin, she says, he wont want to see
Cos men like that, they want you young and pretty,
unblemished, unmarked, something to be able to cling to...

So she dances and bleeds, she starves and she closes her eyes
to the look of disgust in his hungry eyes, when he sees what
she's doing to herself.
If you don't stop, he says, you'll end up dead and damned to hell.
Cos suicides a sin, she knows, so she'll just wait to die,
for surely Jesus will forgive her if she doesn't mean to go
too far...

At her funeral, he was just another figure in black.
Pretending to cry, but secretly he's realised he's won another game...
She was buried in her tutu, just another lie
for she danced and bled till she dropped down dead...


Paper Puppet-show
Community Member
Paper Puppet-show
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