When we have to face the dark,
It's normal to get lost.
We pray for a light to guide,
But it comes at quite a cost.

We must give up our freedom,
Become puppets on strings.
We put our hearts with others,
While they clip our wings.

The darkness becomes our stage,
With a ringlet of light as a guide.
They turn us into little dancers,
And work to crush our pride.

They love to watch us dancers
Struggle futilely to get free.
When deep inside we bleed
With blood they can not see.

Once you've become a dancer,
They'll never let you go.
It's best to avoid the darkness,
And never face this woe.


A/N: A poem with no particular dedication, but aimed at a certain... type of person, you could say. There are people out there who are too weak to stand up for themselves, so they rely on those stronger than them, even if they abuse them or take advantage of them. They do it because they're afraid. This poem is in A, B, C, B format, though I'm an amateur when it comes to rhyming.