Just Dance

I could scribble these pages
with excuses,
drain oceans to fill expectations
I could never live up to,

but, the streets would still be lined
with the black asphalt of truth;
dotted with white and yellow reasons
why time passes us by
without a second thought;

why death steals chances
and hunger drowns dreams.

I could spend a year writing a novel
exploring the whys
or a self-help book
on how to recover
from the black cloud of failure,

or I could spell it out
in a five letter word:




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