When I was little, I always wanted to be
The ballerina in my music box.

So perfect she would turn
With her porcelain skin
Smooth hair
Petite body
Pointing feet

I tried so hard to be like her
Perfect in every way
So beautiful
So innocent

But it was too much for me
I shattered
One too many steel pins shoved into my hair
To make a flawless bun.
Nobody knows that they draw blood.
One too many meals thrown in the garbage
Thrown up
Left untouched
Nobody knows the torture of a starved body.
One too many strips of gauze
Wrapped around my bloodied blistering feet
To soften the blow
Of the hard floor
Against the tops of my toes
Nobody knows about the damage that will last forever.

One day as I sat,
Stomach growling,
Feet singing their constant ballad of dull pain,
I picked up the music box and threw it against the wall
The ballerina shattered
Face broken
Legs snapped
Never to turn on her stand again.

When I was little, I always wanted to be
The ballerina in my music box
And now I am.