Will I ever slip into the trance,
brought about by dance?
Will I ever feel like a princess,
dressed up in pink,
and glitter and bling?
Will anyone ever see,
the Goddess that is me,
hips circling in a rhythm,
that ferries me away?
My passion for dance lies cold,
waiting like a dormant seed.
Waiting, almost completely devoid of life,
dried up, threatened by the wind.
Will I ever slip into the fire,
raise above my ire?
Never will I feel so fine,
it feels gone,
like leaves rotting in the gutter,
waiting for a spark,
to bring it to life.