the music plays sweetly 
the dancer, she spins 
she dances the same circle 
her chin up, she grins 
her eyes cannot see 
her ears cannot hear 
her reflection imitates her 
inside of the mirror 
I see her in the glass 
she moves with ballet 
but then silence falls 
and the music won't play 
she slowly stops turning 
her face facing mine 
her smile of such elegance 
assuring me I'm fine 
I stare back at her 
holding keys and their locks 
I grabbed what I needed 
out of my jewelry box 
not a necklace not any rings 
not a bracelet or earrings 
but a long piece of silver
cold and thin 
one side's so smoothe 
the other is sin 
I hold in my hand
the control of my life 
that I hide in a jewelry box 
not a place for a knife 
the little ballerina 
she spins on a spring 
her sightless eyes 
stare coldly and sting 
the chimes makes me cry 
she dances like she's free 
my tears ask myself, 
"Why? Do I do this to me?" 
And when I am done 
I am entertained 
the sweet song has begun 
with my unhearable pain 
And she dances there freely 
she'll spin and she'll turn 
stuck inside of a box 
until my return