![](https://res.cloudinary.com/jerrick/image/upload/d_642250b563292b35f27461a7.png,f_jpg,fl_progressive,q_auto,w_1024/63b4d77bc0abef001d5b34b8.jpg)
The stage lights fill the night
I dance and spin for my life.
Hoping this time, I might overcome it all
But I am so afraid that I will fall.
The audience becomes a silver glass
No longer a friendly sea of faceless mass.
I stare and see myself, too big and fat
--“You’ll never be a dancer, not with that body”--
My old instructor knocks me on my back.
I try to hug my poor unhappy body
But my brain shifts and thinks, who would watch me? Nobody.
I spin fast and faster to burn away the undesired
All I seem to do is light a fire on my stage pyre.
Practice makes Perfect?
I know not what’s perfect.
All my life I have been told;
Not the right shape
Not competitive enough
Not graceful
Not a dancer
I can’t know what perfect is, not when I am flawed
And the audience is ripping at them with their claws.
So even as the fire creeps up my spinning skirts
I flirt.
I flirt with this idea, that if I keep going I will be the dancer
That I am the dancer.
But my hard sought dreaming passion
Rages to a nightmare in a fashion.
And before my waking eyes
The fire and the mirrors all turn to nighttime lies.
About the Creator
Lane Burns
I’ve always wanted to be a writer. I’m still just finding my voice and coming to believe that I can do this again. I like writing poetry and darker fiction. As well as some fan fictions!
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Comments (2)
Well damn, this just kept getting better! Gorgeous verses here, Lane! The shift into flirting and the final 6 lines are just awesome.
F*'m all! You just keep dancing! 😍