1, 2, 3,
1, 2, 3,
A tune that plays in her mind
That is always defined.
1, 2, 3,
1, 2, 3,
A rhythm she steps, twists to and falls for.
Each movement is placed with precision,
Resembling someone she wants to be
But can not be at the time same.
1, 2, 3,
1, 2, 3,
As she stares at her mirrored self,
In the empty studio,
She saw a frail skinny girl with dusty brown eyes.
She was told she was too thin
To hold her own weight up.
She was told that her movements were jagged
As if she were broken glass.
While her heart was broken and chipped,
Her compassion was the everlasting glue to hold it together.
1, 2, 3,
1, 2, 3,
She gathered the shards inside of her shattered heart and let it flow,
Like a river with large waves:
Each wave was a series of steps
That flowed in time of the music.
1, 2, 3,
1, 2, 3,
Every stomp was rebellious
Every eye movement was a sight of curiosity
Every hand twist was a symbol that came to life.
And every pose was delicate, but strong.
1, 2, 3,
1, 2, 3,
And through every emotion she felt
Was painted with multiple brush stokes across her face.
Each look had a deep meaning
Each look had no regrets
Each look had a side of tranquility.
For she was finally at peace.
