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Striving for Perfection

As pink tutus twirl on broken toes,
This obsession with perfection feels timeless,
The hands that move clockwise quickly slows.

They wonder how far this torture goes,
To get to a world filled with no crisis,
as pink tutus twirl on broken toes.

High buns move around, like synchronized does,
They work hard until they are lifeless,
The hands that move clockwise quickly slows.

Calculations run deeply under periwinkle bows,
Yet shallow runs their kindness,
As pink tutus twirl on broken toes.

They can't see they're broken with their stuck up nose,
Their auras drop with false righteous,
The hands that move clockwise quickly slows.

But you didn't know, they were us, we are those foes,
We work hard and give our minds as our sacrifices,
As pink tutus twirl on broken toes,
The hands that move clockwise quickly slows.





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