They Dance There Still

shoe-age

Strewn feathers across the grass

Leavings from a violent death.

Blast tumbled shoe across the tile

We leave so much of ourselves behind.

 

Death laps the blood

from the stained dance floor

where hearts beat true and free,

Coward’s hate can devastate

but rage can’t take it all,

They dance there still they always will

And dance shall we

in memory.

 

 

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