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The ballet of a SilhouetteSlippers the colour of moonlight slide across the slicked wooden floor.
A skirt the shade of blood fans out with each step.
One twirl after the next- a slim back arching as toes leave the floor for a second.
Then they touch back down with the grace of an angel.
Hair glistening gold- no, bronze -flutters in waves to a small waist,
And illuminates the owner in a halo of light.
Pale skin stands out, flawless and youthful as it curves and dips with each movement.
Then vanishes past a smooth collarbone and beneath a corset that hugs the slim torso.
Eyes that shimmer with the brown of milk-chocolate focus on the lights above,
And cherry-painted lips part to exhale through two rows of ivory teeth.
A silhouette of beauty, of song, and an angel of delicacy,
Dives forward and arches out once more before landing with the gentleness of a swan,
Arms extended like the pale wings of the bird itself.
A chest heaves with exhaustion, but dewy skin glows with pride.
Applause erupts from the once-awestruc
It's Worth It
We walk alone
We hide our faces
We put on a smile
And go through each day as a shadow.
We are so busy making others happy
That we don't even try to cross our own abyss of challenge.
We can't balance on that wooden beam and so
We fall instead.
And we keep falling,
Unable to grasp our solid hold of the world
And we lose ourselves, relying on others
To catch us again.
Well I say forget that,
I will rely on you
But I will not be turned to scrap metal in the process.
I will continue across that beam
No matter what bullets you have to shoot me with.
And the day that I cross the abyss
Of people trying to drag me into its endless depths
Of sadness and self-ridicule
I will turn
And I will wave for you to follow,
Because I will give you a smile
And remind you that
It is worth the fight
It is worth the struggle to keep balance
But you must outstretch your arms
And walk with one foot in front of the other,
A straight line across the wooden beam
And as you cross
You will see the light
Ever Again. . .Will I ever get your smile back?
Will you ever be happy again?
Will I ever bring you back?
From the darkness in which you've entered
You'll never know
You'll never remember
Never see the meaning
Behind my vacant smile.
I'm never coming back
How can I save you?
Will I ever see you again?
Will you ever return. . .
To the person I once knew you to be?
I want. . .to smile. . .
Once more. . .
But if no one can see me. . .
No one can hear me. . .
God, why don't you just kill me?!
You never show signs
That can prove you're disappearing
But you're not showing signs
Of returning to me
Save me from my insanity
Tuck me away where I'll be safe,
Save me from my dying conscious. . .
And take me away to be happy again
Will you ever come back?
I'm never going to return
Will you ever smile again?
My lips can no longer fake the empty grin
Will I ever see you again?
I'm gone forever
Will you. . .
Will I. . .
I Can't Lose to You.My blood rushes.
My head is light.
I can't think straight anymore,
My only thought is; Fight.
Fight your criticism.
Fight your words.
Fight your taunting.
I hate myself like this,
Where all I see is red.
It only reminds me,
How I wish I were dead.
That way, I can hurt no one.
I can not give in.
I can not lose.
I can't. . .
I can't let you win.
I want to scream,
But I don't want to lose again.
Bo.When Lindsay was born, Bo was there. Standing beside her mother, he was the first thing she ever saw. But he was not her father; her father stood on the other side.
Bo was there until the very moment she died.
The sun shone bright through the windows of her pink-laden room. She loved pink. And black.
“Because Bo is black,” she’d told her parents.
Her imaginary friend, they soon concluded.
“Bo is all black,” she described one night as her father tucked her in, “His skin and his hair and everything. He doesn’t talk a lot.”
Her father frowned.
“He sounds scary.”
“He’s not,” she insisted.
Bo sat on the bed and said nothing.
Her father kissed her good night and turned out the light.
“Why can’t Dad see you?” she asked.
“Are you real?”
“Are you real?” he replied.
“How do you know?”
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