Twirls made with grace

Arms outstretched with elegance and grace

Rail-thin bodies dancing

but you don't know their secret life

oh my fucking god I ate an apple today

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That's at least 200 calories, if Madame sees you have gained weight; she will surely kick you out of the academy of dance

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-She finds her tooth brush and

shoves it down her delicate throat

Throwing up the little food she had in her and a bit of blood

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-"It's ok, nothing is wrong with me", she tells herself.

She would kill to be a ballerina

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She's killing herself

But I only want to be perfect


A/n: It's been a while, I hope you liked this poem. I honesty don't give a fuck if you don't like my stereotyping, some dancers are like this, and this poem pertains to them, I'm not saying all are. This poem as of 7/28/06 has been updatedthree times. no more omfg or you or w.o.r.d.s. typed like that, I hopeyou like it better.