Birthed in the brothels of Buenos Aires,
Your violent movements were calmed,
Your timing made precise.
From a Dance of War,
You became a Dance of Passion,
You rose to the highest ballrooms
From the lowliest of slums.
Yet still, for all of your sophistication,
I catch the faint smell of your origins,
Within your powerful movements.
I feel the secrets of your birth,
Beneath your glamour,
Lies a coiled serpent ready to strike.
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