Dancers twirl
Through broken glass,
Blood in ribbons
On the grass.
False laughter fills
The air with smiles,
A collection of fake happiness
For a short and precious while.
Appluad the graceless efforts
Of the sinning ballerinas
As the crowd cackles
Like the call of a hyena.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
Dancers twirl
Through broken glass,
Blood in ribbons
On the grass.
False laughter fills
The air with smiles,
A collection of fake happiness
For a short and precious while.
Appluad the graceless efforts
Of the sinning ballerinas
As the crowd cackles
Like the call of a hyena.
