Nov 2013
I'm such a stupid, ******* ****.
I can't even understand the scraps of bits,
filtered down to me in pointless,
yet so joyful, years.
I am literally straining both my ears,
but nothing seems to work
Instead of elegance, I can only ****
My body on broken strings,
Muscled, contoured body caving in,
with the effort of outside fighting within.
Everything is now designed to aesthetically bounce,
rather than glide, sweat glistening with
shattered pride,
I'm desperate to ride this one way trip again,
Feel it all again
Be me again.
I used to perform with ease
The lightest leaf balancing on the breeze
of a blood layered toe.
No one was to know of injury but
me.
Who seemed to others to be
Perfection
But now all I can see is a tainted reflection
of what I once was.
What I once had.
My elegance is stolen from me,
leaving me littered with normality.
Ballet Dancer no more.
Years of Blood and Gore,
leave nothing but a memory
A grainy DVD
A well preserved shoe.
The art form that I stuck to like skin to super glue
is gone.
And, to be honest, I don't know how to go on without it.
I never truly stopped to doubt it.
Ripped from me
Stripped from me
Leaving me bare,
leaving me confused and scared.
I feel desolate without it.
I can't even understand the scraps of bits,
filtered down to me in pointless,
yet so joyful, years.
I am literally straining both my ears,
but nothing seems to work
Instead of elegance, I can only ****
My body on broken strings,
Muscled, contoured body caving in,
with the effort of outside fighting within.
Everything is now designed to aesthetically bounce,
rather than glide, sweat glistening with
shattered pride,
I'm desperate to ride this one way trip again,
Feel it all again
Be me again.
I used to perform with ease
The lightest leaf balancing on the breeze
of a blood layered toe.
No one was to know of injury but
me.
Who seemed to others to be
Perfection
But now all I can see is a tainted reflection
of what I once was.
What I once had.
My elegance is stolen from me,
leaving me littered with normality.
Ballet Dancer no more.
Years of Blood and Gore,
leave nothing but a memory
A grainy DVD
A well preserved shoe.
The art form that I stuck to like skin to super glue
is gone.
And, to be honest, I don't know how to go on without it.
I never truly stopped to doubt it.
Ripped from me
Stripped from me
Leaving me bare,
leaving me confused and scared.
I feel desolate without it.
Throughout everything, every little moment of depression and ****, I've always had dancing. Especially Ballet. Before I'd even learnt to open up to another being, I found ways to lose myself in movement, I found ways to find freedom and control, when I felt trapped.
This is gone. My body changed, I've grown and all my proportions are off. I love my body, I love what it has become, but recently my haven (my ballet class) has become torture. I'm trying with every particle, but I physically can't, and I'm mentally tired of failing. Today I only just stopped myself from breaking down in the middle of publicly failing by mentally writing the first lines of a poem. This is that.
This is gone. My body changed, I've grown and all my proportions are off. I love my body, I love what it has become, but recently my haven (my ballet class) has become torture. I'm trying with every particle, but I physically can't, and I'm mentally tired of failing. Today I only just stopped myself from breaking down in the middle of publicly failing by mentally writing the first lines of a poem. This is that.
