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She has time to dance
When Her urban feel
suffers the heartlessness
of small minds defeat
and not a single pulse
of memorable beat
replies from the street
dance right up to limit
dance to the edge
incognito
always pointing to the sky
as She ascends
She always fought to survive
Her battles well known
all pain endured
Her true beauty thrives
from the swell of Her heart
yes She weeps
under quiet darkened sky
where Her spirit seeps
into Her coffee colored eye
can you see
can you give and receive
see Her current beauty
and if you cannot learn to behave
She'll be dancing on your grave
I love the comment section,
I love the comment section, mostly the comment 'were I to cut my hands picking up the pieces would you bandage the wounds' comment! I wanna use that for a title now!
I wish I had time to dance, this poem made me miss dancing
Much Love
Ashley
i can't take credit
'for that it is a paraphrase of something i read somewhere were I to cut my hands picking up the pieces would you bandage the wounds,, you like it use it write something good
peace
Dylan
"One of the best results of life, is the torment of love"
Dylan Eliot