In The Dance Room

38 9 19
                                    

The place which made me alive
Now feels desolate.
Alone.
My reflection stares back.
Messy hair, sweaty face, heavy breaths.

The show must go on.

I rewind the music again
Hoping my feet would follow.
They don't.
Hands not proper, steps incomplete,
Feet not coordinating.
Expressions zero.

The show can't be stalled.

Desperately I close my eyes
As the music sinks in.
Frenzy movements, tears dropping.
Something which made me free was tying me today?

I was never good probably.

They are more capable than me.
Images flash by.
Regret, sadness, chains.
Fear increases, confidence breaks.
Flaws zoom in, perfections disappear.
An inward shriek escapes.
Was it me?

I never got out of my shell probably.
I am still afraid, isn't it?
The music continues playing.
One look at the mirror.
Unrecognisable.

The show must go on!

"Even if you are in pain, smile.
The audience must never know.
The show must always go on."

What do you infer? I never usually write sad ones but

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What do you infer? I never usually write sad ones but...

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