The ballerina

Across the shiny parquet floor
Her toes move silently
Pivoting her round and round

She stands tall, elegant, with poise
A calm, fixed smile on her dainty face
As she dances on Pointe

(Isn't it cool?
Look at her toes
So strong to carry her around)

The orchestra seems to play for her
Just her, following her
She floats in the air gracefully

Tall, slender mortal
Tightly pulled back hair
Striking, porcelain-like countenance

Soaring in the air with the greatest of ease
She looks like some royalty
There really is a certain mystique

The audience claps as they are
Dumbfounded by her slender physique
That is almost unearthly

Behind that soft, gentle, breath-taking facade
Is a bleak, horrible truth
That all of her species has to face

Since they Pointe along the academies
Of ballet
They starve themselves

Deprive themselves of meals
Skinnier thinner lighter
Fame (That's all that matters)

Prisoners of war
They're the prima ballerinas
Who cares if they can fly in the air?

Suffering inside
It's all worth it
All they want is to be skinnier, thinner, lighter

They can't dance, they're only forty
Osteoporosis, the dancers' greatest enemy
And who knows what else they suffer?

They enjoy a glorious limelight
And die a quiet, sad, painful death
What use is the fame?

Author's note: our dear science video on eating disorders and ballerinas. its freaky how skinny they are. so eat up people!