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The Lone Silhouette
I soar.
My legs stretching out as they call for more.
My toes point to the ground.
My inner voice has no other bound.
Yet, you out done me.
My better half.
Sure, you are much well-loved.
Yes, your wings rise all up and above.
But, I am like you.
For that, I can say what I have is true.
My dearest white swan,
we, as ballerinas, are not always looking like the sweetest fawn.
The crowds look beyond our flaws.
I may look like an outlaw.
After all, who would love me for my charcoal colored feathers?
The grey weather?
Deep inside, I know our dark secrets.
We are just entertainment.
I bet your toes are torn and bruised as mine.
That is the price we pay to look "beautiful."
But, no one listens to the black swan,
who looks for the better dawn.
There is no dancer that has no scar.
No dancer that does not have to work hard to be a star.
We are each other's half.
We do the same moves,
yet I always lose.
Would you like to know why?
It is because everyone else is too busy looking for the one with the brighter tutu.
-Snow that flutters down like feathers