I am a pointe shoe 

I am created, originally presented, as shiny pink silk adorned with ribbons and a bow 

But I cannot stay seamless 

I am bent, my sharp and angularly precise edges shaved down, by glimmer dulled by chalk, my sturdy base stabbed and torn to create a rougher surface

Amidst the destruction I gain more than I have lost

Now I can create, I can turn and balance, I can perform for others what I couldn’t do before

My imperfections allowing me to have a steady hold on the floor while I express, whereas shiny and smooth I would fall and crumble 

I cannot be perfect