Dance.

Thu, 01/03/2019 - 14:27 -- MvM

I love to dance

But it's been corrupted

And corroded

And with every twist and turn

I fall deeper into a world

Of my own.

Where I can flow,

Leap and dip low,

Hands take life

So that strain and strife

Are but a distant

Memory...

And I am but an airy

Gust of wind!

Spun in the endless space

Wrung out and dripping with grace

Lost away

No need to show my face

 

But there are people

Who harvest joy

Bottle music

And engineer dance

They boil emotion

And burn the soul

For fuel

As if every precious jewel

Is just a chance to make money

And every

Brand new face

Is just a body to be shaped

A dance to be perfected

And draped

In painted lace

To hide the ribs

That show

To hide the scars

That grow

To hide the marks

Upon their minds

Where they were told

Existence is imperfect

Forced to twist

Dance and song

Into the shackles on their wrists

For dance is not

An art to be copied

Graded and scored

Pinched and poked and prodded

Into

A perfect person

But an energy

A flow

That grabs you

And let's you go

Sails you through

The skies

Of another world,

All yours

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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