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Young Writers Society



Fly Dance

by Meta-Messiah


The night swelters,
Hot and loud,
Alarms screech like electric cicadas
And frantic dusty wings grope for light,
A long day has passed ripe with beauty and ache
I've walked many miles but my right foot always catches,
And I trip,
And I fall,
And insects swarm and cling to a dirty bulb,
And I trip, walking a broken ballet
One foot light as bluebottle wings
The other lead and always dragged.
A moth eternally collides with light
But I must watch my feet.


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25 Reviews


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Reviews: 25

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Tue Nov 28, 2006 12:45 am
Meta-Messiah says...



I know to walk a dance seems contradictory, but i guess i was trying to portray a kind of lurching broken elegance. Obviously not to much avail, cheers for pointing that out though i shall look over that in the second draft.




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171 Reviews


Points: 890
Reviews: 171

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Mon Nov 27, 2006 1:54 pm
lexy says...



walking a broken ballet? What does that mean?





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