Ballerinas Everywhere

Little ballerina, in a circle spinning,
Little ballerina, little bells a tinkling.
From my music box, like little angels singing,
From my music box, I just can’t stop winning.
A pirouette forever in,
All from breakfast until din.
Every little girl’s grown up dream,
Most of them, purely moonbeams.
Just as well to be denied it,
They’d lose their minds, bit by bit.
Stuck in perfection, such a curse,
So much pressure, there’s not much worse.
I’d rather live in silence, never seen never heard.
I’d prefer to be a silent tiger to a chittery bird
Just one slip and birdie’s gone, everyone there to see,
Either eaten by the hawk, or stung by the bee.
Now that my time is up, I truly hope you learned,
Perfection is not perfect, should not be loved nor for it yearned.