they all pull her strings left and right
making her dance in a graceful manner
to the observer, a beautiful performance
but to the performer, a nightmare
she's exhausted as she is thrown around
doing what's expected of her
and frankly she doesn't know how to do
anything else
she's forgotten how to make her own decisions
how to smile because she wants to
how to live her own life
the tears fall and she can't brush them away
or she'd be out of routine
she's alive to make them happy
when she is broken inside
a porcelain ballerina isn't meant to be
dragged around for the cracks get larger
threatening to let the emotion enclosed inside
pour out to be exposed
but still they keep making her dance
and twirl and leap
her legs are weak but she fears for what
might happen if she stops
dance dance dance, she thinks
obey the cursed strings.
...
this how I constantly feel
like I'm a part of performance
whose purpose is to amuse the world