Another Broken Ballerina

-

© 2025

Another Broken Ballerina



Your tutu is dusty
the music long stopped
you no longer dance
locked away in your box
the satin is faded
the child’s gems are just stones
your heart is now jaded
and the sparkle has gone

Your fine feathers are dust now
all your dreams are long flown
you must learn to trust now
you need to carry on

But I am frozen
frozen inside
no light reaches inwards
and my little flame has died

Well, throwaway the tutu
we’re done paying the price
and trade in your pointe shoes
we can skate on the ice.


Copyright Statement: © 2025 Christine Jordaan.  All lyrics in my songs are my original work. All rights reserved. The music and vocals were generated using an AI tool under a paid licence that grants me full ownership and commercial rights to the final song. While the instrumental arrangement and vocal performance are AI-generated, I am the sole author of the lyrics and directed the entire creative process, including musical modifications. Copyright of the lyrics and ownership of the complete song remain exclusively with me.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Call to Action: PROJECT TO END GREAT APE SLAVERY - PEGAS

-
Image
Photo credit:  Karl Ammann Beautiful people…. I was honoured recently to be contacted by Karl Ammann ( www.karlammann.com ), a wildlife warrior of note (named Hero of the Environment, and SAB Environmental Journalist of the Year).  He asked me to help raise awareness of the plight of the #slaveapes  as he had seen the world roaring out for our beloved lions.   Together with Dr Dan Stiles (danstiles.org), Nick Cockayne ( http://www.apeactionafrica.org/index ) and a specialised team they have created PEGAS. And so world - I am afraid I need some more tears from you, I’m so sorry.    After the lion march, I seriously wondered if I had any more tears left in my heart or had I cried them all out…  I worried that I had become one of those hard people you see that just don’t cry anymore…  but I’m afraid my heart has been broken again…  actually as I sit here now I wonder at what point one’s heart says “eno...
Read more

The Horror of the Lions Waiting to Die

-
Image
Image Credit:  Kriss Kringle He was a dream of Africa       Pure essence of the Sun God           Raw power blazing down on the Savannah               A mighty roar of the wind But He was born into bondage Credit:  CACH     Into a world where His magnificent Spirit is of no value         His only worth is the price on His head for His slaughter              and His bones for "medicine" In commercial lion breeding enterprises     the lionesses are kept breeding their cubs torn from them at only a few days old     and unsuspecting, well-meaning volunteers are duped into paying large sums of money to help rear the “orphan” cubs… who are also rented out as "props" for events - placed into unnatural, stressful situations - to earn their "owners" money They then progress to the next s...
Read more

Captured

-
Image
© 2017 As the Light grew, the Dark became jealous, prowling at the edge of her Psyche, whispering, tempting, seducing with pretty promises and luring lies Feeding off the Shadow, hidden and hurting, twisting and tricking, until her Soul, distraught, torn apart by anguish, sought refuge in the Void, giving a last regretful look before turning away and stepping off the Edge into the Abyss There in the icy Wasteland Souls hover, frozen inside, they know that they died a long, long time ago Whilst outside, the human predators stalk and trap, and Gentle is shackled in Bluebeard’s castle, blindfolded, bound, lost in the mists, cold steel at her wrists, drifting in and out of the Real, keeping the panic at bay and the ghosts away, by withdrawing and refusing to feel Until one day all is flames and searing pain as her Soul awakens again, Realisation slams her head into the wall, and the Long Road back begins through the Underworl...
Read more

From the Firelight

-
Image
Briefly I believe in something beautiful, kind, good, pure in the World – call it Source/Light/Love.  And obviously the dark is undeniable – it pulls the puppets' strings from the shadows… feeding on our misery. When I name gods and goddesses below, I am speaking about the archetypes I feel running through the fabric of reality… the olde magical Celtic ways are beautiful to me.  There is a basic rule – Harm None.  And so I write for the animals, for the Earth, and for my Self to be healed. If we all just took responsibility for transmuting our own Shadows, the world would be immediately lighter, brighter, and kinder. All my writing :   © 2017 The Priestess Speaks: When the primal Flood receded          I was there                   Soil bare as Wind loved Me  He carved Me into Mountains of Stone   the Ice ca...
Read more

Will You Cry for Me?

-
Image
© 2017 When the forest falls silent of chattering birds and the Moon shines down on empty glades, when the Earth no longer shakes under the migrating herds and the trees are felled where the cheeky apes played          Will you cry for Me then? Maputo Special Reserve When the ice melts and grasslands turn to sand and the gentle humble giants no longer roam the barren lands, when the setting Sun is pining for the lion’s mighty roar and the sweet sad sound of the night jar’s call     Will you cry for Me then? When flamingoes no longer grace the mirror-like pans and no coucals joyfully herald approaching soft rains, when no Mahogany tree lends his shade from the burning Sun nor their pods crunch underfoot in late summertime     Will you cry for Me then? When the lonely wind carries just a memory of a mighty eagle soaring, and an echo of a dreamtime with soft water falling, and the ground is soaked in blood of humans...
Read more

Reflections

-
Image
Written in KZN, 2017 A thousand deaths I died enmeshed in your warped idea of “Love” my own dreams sucked lifeless by your not being enough and having to crush me to prove you are tough But I did this I opened the door to you and invited you into my soft, gentle heart where you proceeded without fanfare to shred it apart A thousand tears I cried as the happy little voices in my head  stopped laughing  and wept bitterly instead as I lay sleepless at night breathless with dread But I did this I allowed you to stay instead of sending you on your way and I faded inside taking the plunging crash  down  to the dark places  deep underground A thousand times I tried  to whisper to that little flame of hope to burn strong again but I could not find the words to coax me back into bright and so I stumbled on lost and alone in the Night I did this I ignored the yearnings of my own truth and so I am not quite su...
Read more

The Lady & The King Stag

-
Image
                        was badly wounded traversing the wastelands cold winds tearing at Him suffering alone so much to give so full of courage and strength so needing to be loved better so needing to live She was trapped in the Underworld Her wing broken so gentle, so kind so needing to learn how to be loved so needing clarity of mind Pic:  Credit Unknown Somewhere in Africa as Spring was returning to the dry land and the full yellow moon  rising over the savanna a Lion roared setting into motion a Destiny that was written when the stars were being born Credit:  Laurent Baheux And the Angels wept with joy as the Sword of Integrity and Devotion, that had been forged in the fire of His Wounding  was drawn He made a promise to the Spirit that lived within Him – the Stag – King of all that is honorable, wild, and free She had a vision o...
Read more

Who is Dreaming Me?

-
Image
© 2017 Written in 2016 when every day was just one long struggle and I did not think I would ever smile again. Link to lyrics in my profile. Who is dreaming me? that I’m tossing around on this black raging Sea? and I am journeying the Wastelands instead of home safe and warm, buffeted by gales and devoured by Storm, travelling the inner ways under dark-shadowed Sky,         Whose dream am I? This notion of Fate being woven by the Three, do we not have any say over our Destiny? who is singing my  so-called reality?        Who is dreaming Me? Are they objective, subjective, loving, stern? is the pain and the suffering the lessons we must learn? and who are the combatants of this war raging within?         Am I an Angel or Original Sin? March 2017 This quest to know Truth, these glimmers that tease me, through this Dark Night, this Long Night,        Who...
Read more

For all the fallen gentle giants

-
Qumquat,  you will not come down to drink today    nor tomorrow        nor any day   the birds are missing your gentle presence        in the cool forest glades           at the heat of midday You are now a memory   a dream of the trees and savannah     an echo of a song the wind whispered to the sun         of a picture She painted when the world was born Your well-worn trails lead now    to sad empty spaces      down at the river at dawn Qumquat and all the Fallen      we mourn you you were gentle and humble     asking nothing         except to live free as is your birthright    we mourn you You are gone      cruelly murdered in gr...
Read more