Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Drowning in the classical.
Floral scents travel the path
of twirling feet.
En pointe is dancing on top
of the world.
Swimming in living art.
Light of the stage is the sunshine of
my world.
Broken woes and calloused toes.
Hidden behind tulle and bows.
A secret hell inside a world where silence
yells.

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