Ode to the Dancer

O silhouette dancer! Thy body makes the bones crave,
Sweet symphonies move thy feet, to dance upon
Such opaque routines; an aching heart and liquid courage,
plague thee. Of empty souls, and empty hearts
whom lead such empty lives. Thou steps are detrimental;
pain arising like waves, taking back
What had been given! What shall thou dance to now?

Hush! Thy silhouette dancer, clear as day
Dancing amongst this world like the wind,
Through these veins and through thou eyes,
As care free as such liquid flows.
Of such pace, life is dimmed; as doth wish it to be?
Bring forth the reckoning, dismiss the cast:
in which prevents souls to dance.





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