Merging the ballerina on the jewelry box with the little person in the snow globe, this is me. Dancing to my own beat, twirling in my own little circle, but not going anywhere. The snow is falling all around me, a fresh coat every day. A little song to cheer me up and wind my gears. But as soon as the fake little flurries settle to the plastic earth around me, my globe is tipped upside down and shaken up. Passed from one hand to another, controlled for how long I twirl and when I twirl. Controlled with who holds my globe and marvels at it. How I feel bad for the little pocket of air that is trapped at the tippy top of my see- through sphere. It bobs from one side of the sphere to the other and slides back and forth over the surface that it is allowed to be close to. It has the ability to see the edge of things and get close to translucent freedom. But the glass barrier keeps us all in. My little bit of snow, the water that surrounds me and I’m stuck on this perch twirling in endless controlled circles. I hope one day someone drops my globe and lets it shatter to the hard floor. I’ll gather all my pieces, sweep up my fake white flurries and twirl into another open sphere. But for now, I’m trapped in a snow globe on display for all my mistakes and made to do as my handlers want of me, the same little twirling circle, on the same gears wound by them that hold the key to my freedom from this glass hell.