"The Murdering Dancer"

Flailing wildly

To escape the murdering dancer

The lie chanter

The pestilential hate-breeding cancer

Where's the evidence?

Where's the allowance for my two cents?

The dancer spins towards center stage 

Murdering the dancers on every other page

Demanding their attention 

Seething at their recession 

Obsession? Confession?

There is none. She embodies repression

I will be the exception 

The imperfection 

Though she wishes I would not speak 

That my death would be quick and bleak 

To her our deaths mean nothing 

She hates to see us be something

Do something, feel something

Better

She has to be on center stage 

as they bleed around her, forced to obey 

"It's all about me"

It is all about you 

About all of the toxic shit you do 

Stop lying, stop crying 

The troupe is exhausted!

We can do nothing to stop it

Reporting this suffering is out of the question 

Only a fool would facilitate that confession 

It would do nothing but put her right back 

In the killing position 

The red center

of recognition