I have done things in life
Things I am not proud of
But I must deal with it
As my dance with the devil begins.
I take off my shoes
cut my hair
change my name.
I have done the worst
and my slow dance becomes a Bolero.
Keeping up is hard
but I must manage.
No one must ever know.
I will move out of country
out of state
out of city
just to keep my crime a secret.
As my dance with the devil continues
I find it harder to keep up
He seems to know where to go
and I have to make it up as I go.
If I keep it up, this Bolero will flare
flare out of control
I must redo all wrongs.
Slowly, as the years go by
the dance becomes a minuet once again.
I will never be able to take away my sins
but the speed of the dance is in my hands.
So… did you like it? It’s a poem for a poetry contest. Please comment truthfully!
