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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1430940
The plight of a dancer, struggling to be perfect.
Too short,
Too stout,
Too skinny,
Too fat.
None of you cut it,
It's as simple as that.



Now honey we love you,
No matter your weight.
But we spent all this money,
To watch you be great.



A dancer you say?
I know your type.
A pill bottle or two,
Is easy to swipe.



The barf,
The pills,
The diets,
The weights.
But everyone ultimately,
Shares the same fate.



I just can't say no,
When they say I should change.
Stop offering me these things,
They make me feel strange.



I feel so dizzy,
What did you do?
You said I'd be better,
Skinny like you.



Skinny,
Beautiful,
Flawless,
Thin.
Am I perfect now,
As I dance to heaven?

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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1430940-Dance-of-Death