Death suits her

See the girl in the empty room? The little ballerina on plie. Notice the shadows hovering on by. Notice the quiet in her eyes. Notice the silence in her moves. She dances on, power in each step. Do you see the faint white? The ice wrapped around her skin. Do you notice the snow that is her skin. She seems so strong. She is ice. Deadly. Beautiful. Yet still so weak. She tries to break from this hold. The darkness that hangs on edge. She longs to be perfect. So she practices till she can't move. Time after time, she yearns for the warm embrace to melt this ice away. To free her still heart. She feels so close. She feels the wings unfurling. Till the icy wind blows. Till her memories pull her back. Crawling and screaming. Why can't she be free? She the ballerina? See how she fights. She how see begs for forgiveness. See how she works to save everyone but herself. The darkness succumbs her. Seduces her. Lies to her. She depends on the false pretenses. Without them she's sick. The song, the piano, carries on. The world carries on as she waits. She can't keep reaching from the light. The sun only burns when she gets too close. See the little girl? Too old for her age. Too wise for her years. She has seen the world and more. She knows love and she knows hate. She bit the hand that fed her and now she must wait.