A poem about the struggles of ballerinas, the beauty and pain that come together while the audience only sees the beauty.

Ballerina Blues


Stretch and practice, practice and stretch

Each solo dance as unique as a sketch

Hours on end, we train to succeed

We scream when we hurt, our body’s now bleed


The work we put in, nobody knows

The pain of being on our toes

As we hope to be given fame

We also have to feel the pain


Of feet that blister with open sores

To create something the world adores

Which brings us to the dance debut

But by the time the dance is through


Our body’s broken for what we do

We do it for us, but also for you

 And even though it causes pain

We know the phrase, “no pain, no gain”


Submitted: August 21, 2014

© Copyright 2023 Lucas McDevitt. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:


R.L. Zabel

AWESOME!!! Seriously, truly 100% adore this poem! Could not have described what we go through any better. Including the blisters. It's awful! And bunions! Eww. My feet are disgusting lol Love it

Tue, August 26th, 2014 8:50pm


lol, glad you liked the poem, glad I was able to portray the image you were hoping for, I look forward to new suggestions from you!!!

Wed, August 27th, 2014 11:09am

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