Gaze upon the imperfections,
Recognize the faults.
Take the hand of all your defects,
In a slow and painful Waltz.
Too familiar is the rhythm,
One step forward, two steps back.
A dance of cold reminders,
Of everything you lack.
The music brings you lower,
Into darker coves,
Each note a harsh critique,
Of what you wear beneath your clothes.
Inner demons handing off,
Cutting in for just the chance,
To handle you, control you,
Cruelly lead you in this dance.
Other voices circle,
“Be kind” they say, “self-care” they preach,
They mustn’t know exactly,
How deep the talons reach.
But the piano strikes an offbeat tune,
It’s subtle but it’s there.
A melody of love and hope,
To distract from the despair.
A child’s song, a lullaby,
For the child that you bore.
The one that grew inside you,
The one that you live for.
The vessel of your scars,
Some seen but most are hidden,
And you know to blame the child,
Is rash and quite forbidden.
The child whom you cried with,
When the world was mean and spiteful.
The child you then cowered with,
Through evenings that were frightful.
The one you lifted from the waves,
When they felt like going under.
The one you knew would blossom,
If you could just preserve their wonder.
The one you told they could be brave,
Wading through the madness,
The one you tried to shelter,
From their appetite for sadness.
So, step by step, sway by sway,
Every day you must decide.
And choose which song that it will be,
which leads your nimble glide.
Do it for the child,
And the dancer they’ll become.
Though some days it’s easier,
To stay detached and numb.
But perhaps it’s time to realize,
That the child whom you grew,
The one you thought the world of,
That child, she was you.
You know, deep down, you owe her.
It’s for her, you must stay strong,
And strive to rise the volume,
On the peaceful, playful song.
So, take her hand, and hold it tight,
and twirl and twirl and twirl,
A spin of revelation,
From woman, to girl,
woman, to girl,
woman, to girl.
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