ah... how precious;
i-                        -magine a twirling
              ceramic ballerina
in a music box...
       he'll sleep under
the guise of a:
    feather...
when all around him,
is...
         hurricane.
dear ballerina...
wake me,
       for one last care,
to craft a talk...
      oh my dear,
dear music box ceramic doll
of tears...
how you sung to me,
in my darkest fears...
there you are twirling...
and twirling... and twirling...
and twirling... and twirling....
and... by now, i must end my
    gratitude, to it fathom a
compensate, for another's attention,
assured to be, equal to yours.