Their Little Protégé

November 12 2009

As we stand backstage,
We all watched her dance.
Every one confused as to why,
The teachers are in a trance.
What was it about her,
That made her better than us?
What was it about her,
That shoved us under a bus?
We know it’s not the way,
Her arms fling in the air.
We know it’s not the ways,
Of her skanky, seductive stare.
We know it’s not the way,
She’s been en Pointe for a year.
We know it’s not the way,
She’s never really here.
We know it’s not the way,
She’s runs over those in her path.
We know it’s not the way,
She’s always doing her math.
We know it’s not the way,
She always claws her hands.
We know it’s not the way,
How in class she always stands.
How is it that she’s being treated,
Like a professional all around,
When the rest of us who work so hard,
Are being shot to the ground.
We’ve tried to fight this war,
For a spot that once was ours.
But now I feel that we are losing,
Endlessly by the hours.
She’s now in every dance,
And she never goes off stage.
Soon she’ll get a solo and we’ll
Be shoved in this cramped cage.
She’s got all the attention now,
And we are nothing to compare.
Apparently they see her to,
Captivate the audience’s stare.
They’ve now created a monster,
My friend is has gone away.
Now that they’ve declared her as,
Their little protégé.

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