little dancer

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" she wasn't small, my onstage. suddenly, the awkward little girl became a beautiful little dancer. and while she had no training, no skill or talent, she was out there, alone in the lights. short turns she learned by herself completed faultlessly, arabesques where she stared longingly into an outstretched arm. her eyes are focused and full of meaning, each movement graceful and clean. she was a perfect little dancer.

she goes to turn, and suddenly she stumbled. snap, the focus is gone from her eyes. nerves riddle her arms, the movements no longer gracefully. she's barely shaking, quick breath as she tries to get back into it. she goes to arabesque, and again, falls. the click of focus and cleanliness is gone. she stumbles again, shaking her hands nervously. she bites her lip, arms flailing uselessly at her sides.

the lights that illuminated her are painful and harsh, her eyes moist and overbearing now. she forced that awkward smile, "oops, I messed up" he smile says. in a flailing flurry of motion, she runs offstage, pushing past some with that same awkward smile. she forces the smile so she won't cry.

she is not a dancer. she doesn't want to leave the wings now, not ever. she can't dance. she can't do it.

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a nice little poem for anyone who wants it. don't worry about me, I'm having an emotional breakdown over my solo in the dance showcase. :)

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