Analysis of A sad waste of Childhood

The audience is stern and hides utter amazement
as she floats gracefully on her baby pink cloud of lace and ultra plush padding.
Her callased toes flex and push against one hundred pounds of gruesome human pressure
leaving her frail translucent frame stuck in the tension-filled air
above her decision block of a stage.
The white lights directly above
leave her temporarily blinded,
flailing around like a wounded bird.
The judges hardened faces snatch their cruel pens
to only crush the long lived dream of yet another anorexic teenage ballerina with a passion.