A stage opens full,

vulnerable to the tap tap of pointe,

piercing down into grounding earth,

her water born face is supported by a broken shoulder joint.

 

A body cross-sexual, no set form,

A sheet serves purpose to make a smile appear,

They can all tell who the audience is,

As she sees her reflection in fear.

 

Inwardly, she is the nucleus in a neuron,

A speck on a pale blue dot,

Cosmos draw her form,

Spinning, People look away and reaffirm lonely lessons taught.

 

Lessons:

That the Fool’s hat gives validity to her speech,

Only a jester in the court of her mind.

That a laugh can hide the fact she has no armor,

She’ll take the role her lies assign.

 

And when they finish clapping,

For her trips and her falls,

She’ll take a prideful bow,

The staging of her own death prevents real blood on walls.