The Ballerina & The Devil

Fifty Five. Ready or Not

The song in the media box is Hall of Fame by The Script feat. will.i.am

A/N: @dabooks23 wrote me this beautiful poem. Before you start the chapter go ahead and check it out. Thank you babe! I love it.

The Ballerina and the Devil
A true tale to tell
Who both seem to in their own personal Hell

He, the Devil, scared to let anyone in
For fear that they'll run from his dark, ugly sins

She, the Ballerina, who hides behind lies
Not seeing her beauty that lies deep inside

They are both broken in so many ways
But with each other their hearts are ablaze

They love each and may not the the same
But they need one another like a moth needs a flame

The Ballerina and The Devil
A true take tale to tell
Who both seem to in their own personal Hell

If anyone has any poems or cover art they want to share private message me or email me at memoirsoftaylor@gmail.com!

WARNING: Not edited AT ALL :/

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Kenzie collapsed on the sidewalk in front of my house and buried her head in her hands. "I hate exercising," she said tearfully.

I giggled, placing my hands on my knees to bend over and attempt to catch my breath.

"Oh, it's not that bad," Majesty spoke up from her spot on the grass. "You only ran for a couple of miles."

"Majesty, why don't you just shut the hell up because your ass wasn't the one running," Kenzie snapped.

"I'm recovering from a traumatic illness," she reminded her, her hoarse voice enough proof to back up her statement. "And I don't see Demi complaining. Be more like her."

"Demi is a trained Olympic athlete. She doesn't count as a person," Kenzie flipped on her back and sighed. "You know what? Who needs to be healthy? We're all going to die eventually. What's ten more years tacked onto my lifespan?"

I laughed slightly and tilted my head back in order to feel the breeze hitting my face which was slick with sweat. My eyes fluttered shut as my thoughts drifted off.

With my life alternating Juilliard audition coming up within the next twelve hours, I figured going on a nice, long run would act as a soother for my frazzled nerves.

When I voiced the suggestion out loud to Kenzie and Majesty, who had randomly dropped by to hone in on the breakfast my mom had been preparing, Kenzie offered to accompany me enthusiastically while Majesty "supervised" (aka sat out under the warm sun watching us do laps around the neighborhood).

The enthusiasm from my brunette friend was short lived and after barely two laps the incessant complaining had started up. Any other day of the week I would have strangled her for being so annoying, but today I welcomed it. Not only was it a good distraction from my impending audition, but it was a good distraction from my boyfriend who was taking up a good portion of my thoughts.

After Aidan had hightailed out of my house shortly after my profound lie my mind, as it usually did, ran away with itself. All I could think about is how mortifying the whole situation was, and how I needed to make it a point to not drink in the presence of Aidan. This could have all been avoided if I was in more control of my consumption levels.

"Why do you look like your dog just got hit by a car?"

I looked over at Kenzie who had propped her head up in her hands and was staring at me with an intrigued look. My eyebrows furrowed at her question.