Dancers in my Head

There are many confined to my cranium

She gasps and shudders;
Violent motions escape in sharp bursts.

Revelations of fear and rage.

Another she is calm and contained.

Her movements slow and calculated;

Appearing effortlessly ethereal.

He leaps and contorts;

Pulsing rhythmically with the music.

Vivacity.

Raw Emotion - Pure Force.

Powerful and Unknown.

They dance together. They dance apart.

Their movements are fluid yet always contain a quirk, some flaw. 

The truest beauty is found within imperfection.

They are all my mind sees when my eyes are clouded.

They leap, glide, and twist beyond fast boundaries.

I define their movements when I'm incapable of controlling my own.

Sometimes it can be uplifting, a remembrance of what I loved, what I could do.

But now I can't.

I don't even have real dancers.

All I have is the ones in my head who (like the Willis) strive to dance me dead.

Tschüss,

Marta Frieda Hart