Dancing Tears

It's three am and she just can't sleep,
She woke up from the same bad dream.
All too familiar with the salty taste,
As again the tears dance down her face.
Against her body a pillow gripped tight,
Pretending it's someone saying it'll be alright.
She clenches her fists to hold back her cries,
Wishing someone were there to dry her tear stained eyes.
She tries to sleep but can't,
Knowing that the claret pool around her will soon become too deep

She goes to school while asking God to take away the pain,
but yet again the tears danced like a sadistic ballet.
When asked how she was she said "fine",
Even though she knew saying so was a lie.
At the end of class she let loose a single tear,
Allowing it to pleay across her cheek, hoping someone would see it and care.
When she gets on the bus she sits alonelike a cardboard cutout,
Looking at everything yet seeing nothing.
And now she can hide her face in shame,
To at last allow tears to waltz down her frame.

Once home she acts content, a neverending masquerade.
After a while though, it seems she is the object of other people's rage.
Why? She'll never know,
So sometimes the ballarinas dance on a black and blue stage.
The cruel warmth never failing to touch her so she goes outside,
In the cold still not asleep.
So she asks the Lord of the Dance to grant her one night's sleep,
And He does, even wrapping her in a cloak of peace.
crzydrm crzydrm
18-21, F
May 22, 2012