Laces tied.
Hair pulled back.
Music starts.
The only thing I feel
Is the pull of the rhythm
And the creaking of hardwood under my shoes.
This is what I'm meant to do.
My bones tell me to move.
My heart tells me to jump.
My spirit aches for the light of the stage
And the feel of the floor under my moving feet.
I was born for this
And going back is like coming home.
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