Writing Prompt

This isn’t going to work

one word after another word changes nothing

besides I’m fine

I’m always fine

even when I’m not

maybe it’s because my life is one long

piece of performance art

falling somewhere between

high church ministrel and gallows humor circus

the music plays

and look at me dance

always twirling

command performance

with a smile

or not

who cares I’m fine

sometimes yeah it’s too mu...

As I walk into my room, a burning sensation grows between my thighs. Skin chafes against skin, feeding the fire of pain and irritation. Until now, I couldn’t acknowledge the rashes growing redder with every step. I peel off my leotard, the sweat on my skin clinging to the thick fabric. When I struggle to pull my legs out, I see the rips in my new tights, I see my mother’s money thrown out the wind...

Prim and proper when they open up the box.

I dance and try to hide my cracks.

“Make them happy. Make them happy”

The light fades as the box closes.

Did they see the blood on my dress? Did they see the scars on my face? If they did they might throw me away!

Live in constant fear of rejection.

Life is surly worse than death....

My feet glued into fifth position. The springs age like a grandparent. The mirror smushes me down. The box felt so empty, small, smushed, sad. Paint chipped off the box as if it was old memory’s.

————/ me no feel like finishing this but i dont wanna leave it rotting in my drafts sooo/————...

Music

Surrounds

All around

It doesn’t stop

And I dance

And dance

To the beautiful

Sounds

Of the music

All around

Round and round

I dance

In circles

Over and over

I’m an endless dance

I’m the music box

That never

Stops...

The shadows grip and squeeze

until I collapse with a snap!

Stifled by the hushed quiet of

a long forgotten dream.

My carved smile has faded

in time with the colors and music,

but still I wait for the mercy of your eyes

when you open my cage

and twist me back to life.

I unfurl to a melody that

you’ve imbued with hope

if only to fouetté ur troubles away.

But for a few twin

...

In the abandon antique shop on the corner Swell Street, there’s me. A sad ballerina doll, with the record, Daisy Bell, playing when the wind seems to press my buttons.

“Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do!” I want to know why I’m still here! Why me of all dolls, alone spinning to Daisy Bell. World, give me your answer! DO!

I live on Swell Street yet nothing is swell!

I can’t keep living li...

Womb with a view, womb for rent, yeah I’ve heard the all. But the worse nickname is bunnies. As if we wanted lots of sex, wanted lots of babies. Nothing could be further from the truth. I never wanted that life. Out Fenton model bodies were designed to gestate babies. I wanted to be a pilot. I wanted to go places.

But the choices were made all a round me. At the maternity homes, we would wait to...

I’m so tired of the promises

So many are made

So many are broken

They tell me they’re here for me

They tell me they never leave

They tell me it’s okay to not be okay

They tell me they love me

All just to leave

Or hide

Or give up on me

It hurts

And it doesn’t end

They don’t stop coming

And they don’t stop going...

The walls were her.

She new naught of life outside them, caressing and suffocating in tandem.

These mockeries were made the same as her flesh, but without soul. Meat without animation. Hard and unforgiving. When she beat on them, she couldn't carry on without imagining hitting another.

There was no comfort in a house of inhumanity.

She was built in another's image, in shape of something she ...