Burning passion, gentle movements, and unwavering precision
Are only three sets of words that describe her
She moved en pointe with her ink-dipped shoes and wrote herself down on the pages of my existence
Delicate cursive appeared across the blank, unlined leaves
Creating soothing poetry amidst all the chaotic rants in the pages before
I watched as each step, throw, and turn add new words to the narrative
The spotlight followed her every movement as she floated across the stage
Jotting down line after line of her calming words

The lights faded after she ended the fourth stanza
And she was greeted with thunderous applause by the voices in my head
I could see her silhouette dance slowly on the unlit stage
She spun for what seemed like hours before the lights came back on

There she stood

The once pure and clean ballerina in white was drenched in blood and ink
She moved aggressively and without remorse painting rough lines on the soft syllables she'd written for me
Her eyes glowed with unholy strength as she knelt upon my pages
And ripped them from one corner to the other, tearing the book's spine
All I  could do was stare at her as she smiled at her work
And silently exit stage left