Dancing On The Edge Of A Pin ~Death Of An Angel

This is about a true story, about a loved one; written in poem form

 

 

She was a tiny, angel of a woman, mindlessly moving in a chemical haze

Her heart barricaded, tormented from her long, lonely days...

From dancing on the edge of a pin

 

 

Mindlessly moving, dreaming images with her feet

on a dirty old stage- in an audience of men

Eyes not enticing- lips falsely inviting

Crumpled, dollar bills...

stuffed carelessly into her thin string of silk,

listening to a mindless, endless beat...

While dancing on the edge of a pin

 

 

Her bare dirty feet-

so helplessly calloused with wear- her bells and symbols clacking,

dancing without memory, in a world of deceit

Twirling, swirling on a bar room pole-trying to live her poor, shoddy role

Stripped of dignity,

Ripped from grace

that's imposed upon her lifeless soul

 

 

Her teardrops falling-slowly slipping, silently dripping

leaving behind a clear, salty trace

as they slide down her cheeks-like icy blue, watery veins

on her weary, tear stained face

 

 

She dances mindlessly without care-from one seedy bar to another

in faded, jaded memories blurred by her past

Through misty, watery depths she bleeds-trying to quench a thirst so deep

in her hemorrhaged, sedated heart-so worn, so torn by her dreams that did not last…

While dancing on the edge of a pin

 

She slides down the pole performing her dance

floating in an igneous swirl of aqueous, diluted anesthesia

Demons eating and devouring her soul

through her darkened descent of amnesia

In painful depths that twist and turn-

in her nebulous, muddled reality of unspeakable memories

that cannot exist in her mind-

lest they drive her deeper into a shattered demise

 

 

Childhood dreams, stripped cruelly of their parts

her mind wanders in a foggy, semi-conscious state of grace

as she mindlessly dances on her stage

with a dazed look on her innocent, delicate face

 

Cheap, neon lights bathe trashy, shoddy floors

in seedy, darkened bars that smell of stale cigarettes and booze

Dangerous, dingy, low-rent neighborhoods

leased by lurking, lewd, slovenly men who try to grope her every move

 

She sits on an old, bar stool, sipping amber colored whiskey

from a dirty, shot glass

waiting for drunk, salacious men to approach, handing her their grimy, rumpled cash…

As she dances on the edge of a pin

 

Ten dollars a dance...

to the tune of one weary, old song

or twenty dollars an hour to some drunk, bleary eyed man

she’ll dutifully belong

 

Shadowy features...

biting at her heels

Unnamed creatures...

gripping, clawing at her heart

like broken shreds of steel

Her soul so bruised from so many wounds that cannot heal

A fragile, beautiful soul, so battered, so used...

From dancing on the edge of a pin

 

One morning the headlines of the daily news printed one more, sad obituary

of a beautiful soul so badly abused

Her parents were sent a note

from the bar where she’d last worked

that said…

 

“Your daughter used to work here

but now that she’s dead...

will you please stop by and pick up what's left...

of her clothes and shoes"

 

________________________________________

Death of an angel

 

 

By LadeeAnne~anne p murray~2011

               

Her very existence has been lost

Reviews

[anne p. murray- LadeeAn..]

Based on a true story about a loved one- a young girl who stripp danced to pay her bills. The money was good at first, however she quickly find out the dangers, both physical and emotional, and they began to eat away at her life, her soul, until she gave up and ended up dead after suffering from addictions so powerful, she lost her own sense of self and reality.