Monday, April 11, 2016

Small pocket

There is noise all day humming, drumming
You are looking for the fresh, quiet word underneath

The gurus pingpong advice at you
You rally. You parry. You just want to walk away.

You wish you could be rich, smart, funny
But quiet would be good enough for now. Just quiet.

You climb steps trying to reach the top
Your friends reach you hands, arms. You want to shake them all off.

You hide in a small pocket of peace
Where you can sing the songs you remember, songs you made.

Your fingers count out the time, the beat.

You just need those numbers to go right, keep you dancing.

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