Danseuse ajustant sa bretelle, 1895-96, Edgar Degas
They clipped my wings, tied my feet,
Gagged my mouth, left me to weep,
They took control, until I gave up,
My life, no longer mine, surrendered,
In a dark corner, I was thrown,
Left to rot,
No one to talk to, no company,
But my soul,
My cries no one heard, or cared,
I still existed, no one remembered,
Shunned and shattered,
My feelings no longer mattered,
They had their way, leaving no chance,
All because I wanted to dance….
Good one!:)
ReplyDeletethanks :-)
DeleteDance is poetry in motion and how can she not want to compose poetry. lovely poem.
ReplyDelete:-)
Delete... beautifully composed.
ReplyDeletethanks @Helen
DeleteI understand this...too well...
ReplyDeletethanks for the cool prompt @Tess
Deletenicely done
ReplyDeletethanks :-)
DeleteI think a lot of ballerinas (and probably other people, too) could related to this one. Well done.
ReplyDelete=)
you're right @Sue..thank for reading :-)
Delete