- Books, Literature, and Writing
The Life of a Lonely Ballet Dancer
Too busy appealing to the masses,
Seeing the world through rose-colored glasses
Never asking for anything in return,
Such a hard lesson for her to learn.
Working her muscles until they scream,
Life of the ballet dancer is the theme,
Working so hard, can’t be replaced
Never truly loved, rarely embraced.
Show her a beautiful, yet empty world,
Give her adoration, but forget the heart of the girl.
Tell her that body and beauty matter
Forget love, that makes the career shatter.
Years of work, fortune and fame
She forgot herself, she wasn’t to blame.
She never grew up, her emotions were lost,
She wanted the life of a ballet dancer.
She mistook false adoration for love,
Smiles and nods were a lie, thereof.
When the doors were closed and she cried
Each piece of her heart slowly died.
Years do come, and decades go
She lost her soul, and nobody knows,
She kept herself within barred walls.
Her best dances she often recalls.
She gave so much until a shell was left
She felt so alone, often bereft.
And finally when true love came calling
She fought it hard, often appalling.
She knew not courtship, flirting was pain
What these things meant, was not the same.
For what she knew was emotionless and cold,
But it got her the life of silver and gold.
She feared her own necessary needs and wants,
It was easier to purchase croissants.
She pushed the perfect suitor away
Even though she hoped that this would come her way.
She feared her own feelings, never enveloped
Her childlike emotions had never developed.
When her love came calling one sunny day,
It brought her fear, for it would never stay.
All she knew was a life of structure and work.
Being sentimental and sweet was so berserk.
To her, love was adulation, fake smiles,
And standing ovations in the aisles.
© 2014 Deb Hirt