Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

The Final Dance

She walks through the doors,
Constantly feeling her sores.
Putting on her fake face,
Her tears sting like mace.

Hiding behind the curtains,
She lets go of the burdens.
Her nerves float,
But calm with the notes.

People’s faces like lights,
Beautiful starry night.
Thunders of applause come,
Her time is done.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback