I warn you, this poem's crap. X-x It about what happened to one of my characters. Because I'm to lazy to write a short story.

Last Dance


Little Ballerina

standing in the wooden floor

twirling to the music

as you dance the night away.



We watch and clap for you

as you jump and dance for us.

You bow and roses fly

as you stand center stage.



But nothing lasts forever.

Nothing can stay the same.

Now it's your turn to fall.

Your turn to fade away.



The spotlight's dim

and the applause is gone.

You're alone now, and no longer little.

As you stand center stage.