I have been a dancer my whole life. You hear water dripping, I hear a symphony. My ears pick up on counts and beats, unaware, transporting me to a world in which I can dance all day.
Choreography sprouts like wild flowers in my head, bursting with vibrant colors and unique designs. Inertia is present when I leap. I accelerate speed in pirouettes, twirling like the pencil in my hand, writing an essay for days. I love dance. Literature is dance on paper. Words of a sentance are choreography just as much as movements in a routine. I am the only swaying tree in a still forest, forever dancing to even the gloomiest storms. I go in slow motion as if I'm walking through water, powering through. Always power through. It can be a bad day, and yet I dance. I smile and I dance.
-𝐬.𝐩
