Broken Ballerina:
Right there she stands,
with a tutu in hand.
She can not understand,
how this all will end.
The bright lights never seemed so dim,
her bangs need a trim
Pointe shoes by her side,
it's finally her time.
This is her moment to shine.
She makes her way to the dressing room,
Nervous like a bride about to meet her groom.
Just one look is all it takes,
a look at the face that she can't replace.
She she slowly puts on a smile,
the smile she's had for a awhile.
She can't help but know its fake,
She's silently crying for help for goodness sake,
The pain shows through her eyes,
She can't silence those cries.
She can't help but think,
that she is on the brink,
of her past taking over her life.
She can't help but feel strife.
So while she takes a bow,
She couldn't help but know,
She was a Broken Ballerina.
