DancingAlone
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The beat moves me;
When I hear switching pitches and jumping beats,
I have to move my feet.
I have to leap and jump,
Flail my arms,
Twist my hips;
I have to dance.
Ghosts fade, yet memories remain
laced within the final song.
Voices moan as the ballad grows
although, they're all long gone.
Feet in time, I dance the line
wanting to forget them all.
I’m not a poet, I’m a writer
Since I was a child, I’ve been scribbling on pages
One day your young, will be reading my work
While you’re lying to them about Satan and Santa, they’ll flee to Feltman