Dancing On The Edge Of A Pin

This is a re-do of a poem I wrote several months. I felt compelled to write this after watching a news story on CNN

She was a tiny angel of a woman

mindlessly moving in a chemical haze

Her heart barricaded.

Tormented from her long, lonely days…

     Dancing on the edge of a pin

 

Twirling oblivious on a bar room pole

trying to live her shoddy role

 Stripped of dignity

 Ripped of grace…

      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 ice, blue, watery veins…

     On her weary, tear stained face

 

She dances mindlessly without  care…

from one seedy bar to another

in faded 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

 

She slides down the pole

performing her dance

floating in a blurry, igneous swirl

of aqueous, diluted anesthesia

Demons eating and devouring her soul…

    Through her darkened descent of amnesia

 

Stabbing pangs of her painful, empty life

pierce her deadened, etiolated soul

sucked dry by roaming, hungry fingers

carelessly, ravenously taking their toll…

    On her heart bleeds real tears

 

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 that were

 stripped cruelly of their parts

her mind wanders in a foggy

semi-conscious state of grace

from hungry teeth marks …

     left on her innocent, delicate face

 

Cheap, neon lights bathe trashy

shoddy floors in seedy darkened bars

that smells of stale cigarettes and booze

Dangerous, dingy, low rent neighborhoods

leased by lurking, lewd, slovenly men…

   Who try and 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

 

Ten dollars a dance to the

tune of one weary, old song

or twenty dollars an hour

to some drunk, bleary eyed man

for 60 endless minutes…

   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

 

One sad 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…

             her clothes and shoes”?

 

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LadeeAnne~ 

  Anne P Murray; 2011

 

 

Author's Note

Author's Note: This is a re-do of this poem/story. I saw a sad story on CNN about women/girls who dance in bars and have their whole lives ruined due to the physical and emotional effects it can have on their lives...sometimes even deadly.
Sad, but realistic poem about young girls and women who strip dance, pole dance, & etc. to pay their bills. The money is good at first, however many quickly find out the dangers, both physical and emotional, began to eat away at their life, their soul, until they either end up dead, or suffer from addictions so powerful, they lose their own sense of self and reality.

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Reviews

[grayhaven]

Such a sad sad story. Thank you for sharing this sad tragic poem with us my friend. You did an absolutely wonderful job writing it.

[Marie Harrison]

Such a sad story. Very true too.
I enjoyed this poem, it has a lot
of passion and empathy for
the ladies of this profession.
I had a client that was in the business
and desperately trying to get out.
She eventually made it out
but it was very hard for her
to do. It is a scary way of life,
many don't make it out alive.