And when this dance is done
I will have mud running from my lips
like everyone
That filth which is our raiment
Feet slipping and hands gripping
each other
Yet we all let go eventually
Flung back into the spinning
The wheeling and the whirling
As we all move around each other
YOU ARE READING
Poetics and Musings
PoetryJust a place to keep some original poetry. Feel free to leave feedback, I always am looking for it
