I listen as the music bumps methodically
Slowly becoming more encaptured
Reveling in the euphonius,
melancholic sounds as the music reverberates through my very core
Relishing, in every crisp dip, and drop of the woman's voice as she belches out tune, after harmonius tune
I close my eyes, letting my mind be overtaken with wave, after wave of unforgettable memories
of a little girl wearing a frilly pink tu tu adorned with tiny pink diamonds, A sparkly pink shirt
A pair of ballet shoes
A jewel encrusted pink and silver tiara
Long, dangly earrings, and bright pink lipstick that she probably shouldn't be wearing in the first place
Memorized as her gaze remains fixated on the screen of the mounted tv
Completely enthralled by the graceful, poised beings that leap to and fro across the stage
Standing on her tippy toes
She attempts to reciprocate the godly beings
Her tutu swaying side-to-side with the movements
Adoration rampant in her eyes with every step
Hope embedded within her heart
I open my eyes as my feet move on their own accord
Slowly drawing beautiful figure 8's across the mahogany stage
Loosing myself in the music
Letting myself be swept away as I plie' then chasse'
Hearing only the faint voices of the audience in the background as I approach the ending of my flawless routine
I dance, yes I dance
But no not the reason you may be thinking
I dance because dancing is a way of life for me
I dance because it is the life force that I cling on to that brings me hope
I dance because it speaks words no poet or poem could ever say
I dance because my dancing is a paintbrush and the stage is my canvas
I dance because it is art, I am art
I dance because as I gaze into the distance Of the audience, I see the little girl staring back at me her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she gazes at me proudly, while silently thanking me for helping her to become who she is today
A stray tear of happiness cascades down my face
I have, and always will be:
A force to be reckoned with
A bewitching enigma
Artistry at its finest
A plethora of potential
For within me lies a child at heart, but the spirit of a dancer
YOU ARE READING
Book Of The Troubled
Poetry"For who could understand such a beautifully twisted mind". Dive into the the mind of a Troubled Teen *Suggestions and criticism is welcomed but please no hate and/or hurtful comments THIS IS MY ORIGINAL WORK SO PLEASE NO COPYING OF ANY SORTS...
