The Dancer

She dances with grace and great poise. Can't she see that her dream is jus moments away, yet turns to stop and stare at the crowd. She walks off the stage in the middle of her routine. She yells, "I refuse to let this get the best of me!" and leaves. She doesn't turn back and keeps going until shes to tired to go on. That dancer is me, struggling to find where I belong, and where I want to be. And sometimes things cannot be changed from what they are or once were. You hold you fate in your own hands this very day.