With forced and desperate grace.
But she is not supposed to breathe,
It betrays her, as human.
She will be disciplined later.
He twirls with the bullets,
Dipping and leaping through fire.
His ears ring with the beautiful music of explosions.
He is filled with the thrill of the motions.
She is not seen,
Washed out by the spotlight.
She throws up her last meal,
Her last memory.
In the porcelain toilet in the small, French bathroom.
His commander barks orders and he follows blindly.
Her teacher barks orders and she follows blindly.
He dances with fire, with death.
She dances with the cold spotlight, the unforgiving crowd.
She dances for her life.
As they spin faster and faster,
Their figures blurring into one,
It is hard to tell
Who is the ballerina,
And who is the soldier.