She arose from the cold hard floor where she had been laying
Resting her weary body for a few precious moments
Dripping with sweat and tears
She gingerly, gently removed her shoes
And was not surprised to find bleeding and sore feet
Each toe bruised and several blackened nails
She rose unsteadily to her feet
She knew she had to keep going
No matter what they said
She would make it
She would beat them all
She had been going at it for hours
Determined to push her sore body even harder
To achieve her goal
This was her art, her passion
She strove for greatness
To rise to the height of the famous
The accomplished of her craft
For even the loveliest of all of them
Had to endure
The pain
The agony
Each emotion both a curse and blessing
As they pushed her towards her goal
Of greatness
She replaced her shoes
And wound the light ribbons around her ankles again
The demure picture of grace and beauty that she was
She was like so many of us
A ballerina
