two left feet,

elephant arms swinging,

movements way off beat,

from the tippity top of tired lungs,

tortuously loud singing,

unstoppable,

music rushing like blood through her veins,

messy tendrils of golden hair are probable,

naive and displeased with life’s foolish games,

she dances,

dances to release this pain,

spinning around,

until reality can no longer be found,

shaking away worries,

until her heart can feel sound,

the song of her soul,

she calls it liberation,

it plays when she dances,

it rids life’s frustration,

moments where her world is silent are the best chances

for jubilant freedom dances

 

home alone – g.c.

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