Powdered faces and painted lips.
Bows rising and falling,
with the breaths of their dancers.
Fingers scatter across,
obeying the dip and pull of horsehair.
The music soars through the sky.
A girl is on a bench, sick and poor, left to die.
A boy is alone and hasn't learned how to survive.
A boy is running away and know only to lie.
A girl has tears in her eyes and yet says, "I'm fine."
The notes play only sadness,
but the faces sing with glee.
I look around and see only madness.
Tell me, dear world, what is wrong with thee?
