She Was A Dancer

She was a dancer with porcelain lips
Her tiny toes graced a musical room.
Her arms posed like an afternoon swan
when she spun about the dusty floor.

She was a dancer that answered our hopes.
She graced our hearts with lullabies.
Swift, precise, heaven embodied her,
and the world melted at her pink-shoed feet.

One day this dancer was told a lie.
"Swift will be swifter if you lose five.
Grace will be yours, my dear, if you promise,
to perfect your body that dances so heavy".

This dancer knew no limits
and success was her only goal.
She counted and tested and weighed until
the crowd was pleased with her angelic figure.

She was a dancer with a twisted heart,
and she began to take her goal too far.
Porcelain lips turned to porcelain hips
and on her knuckles she boar dreadful scars.

She is a broken dancer now,
with a world of destruction behind her.
Now her music plays in a tragic place
in this poor victims dreary heart.