She won’t live her life in glances,
So she moves. Oh yes, she dances,
And the movement, it entrances.
But you don’t care.
The world can be enchanting
In silent places where
She isn’t gallivanting,
So you’ll just leave her spinning there.

She doesn’t feel the fear
Until she meets with your applause.
Indecent, it makes her pause.
Your approval is insincere.
(You just want her in your claws
So you can make her disappear.)
Under your small leer,
She’s starting to wilt.
Like a dwarf upon stilts,
She slowly, surely tilts
Until the world, once so well-built,
Falls to the unclear.

And the changes, they all translate
To her fear of valued heights,
Her fear that when life falls,
All her efforts, soft delights
Will turn to blackened gall.
She thinks it’s fate; there’s no debate.
Her fright-light steps must turn to hate.

Right now she’s dancing for her life;
She’s dancing in pure dread.
You say, "The beauty’s in the fright."
Her twirls made in the face of spite,
She’d rather now be dead.