Boxed Angel

I wrote this about a ballerina trapt in one of those jewery boxes that girls have.

Twirling twirling does the angel go,

Beauty Dancing at the musics flow.

As the music plays "ring a' rang tang ting."

Circling round with gold silvery hair,

Trapped forever dancing on light pink air.

wings fluttering at the slightest warm touch, 

the bow has her trapped in it's cruel clutch.

blue eyes watch form her unhappy soul, 

time will know when her heart is made coal.

Author's Note

Be semi-kind...

Reviews

[Michael X]

This writing presents itself in a fragile nature--in way of describing what it means to be ornamental --
like glass-- and like a dancer..ever aware of surrounding.. but absorbed within themselves--and in many
ways having to perform- but becoming numb to the motion.. thus becoming a mere repeating act

for show- and in many ways this poem speaks metaphorically by describing having to put on fronts
for those around.. but on the inside is a completely different feeling.. on the outside there may be
smiles and a personna of happiness but the soul is dying--this is very beautifully written and described

[Wildecat]

Very nice writing a pleasure to read your poem.

[Legion]

cruel cluth. - clutch

I feel like this sometimes. Although it is really hard for me to do that toe thingy. Good write.

[Mariah]

wow...very deep i like it. although u missed spelled clutch and from i figured out what u meant. this was very good. i felt as though i was the boxed angel. very good. it made sense but didn't spell it out right. very good job on this.