The Dance, The Art

I have a thought held to thine eye, but why cover it with idiocracies and fancy white lies, eloquent words and fancy analogies, but that's not what a poet needs in order to be affluent, when asked "why?" or asked "who?" i look at the other and say, what about you? These words aren't prefixes designed to impress, nor are they false hopes snug fit in a dress, they come as they are, they do what they will, the feelings, the fate, that is the truth So instead of selling the art or performing a show, dance to your own beat, follow your own heart, craft your own show.