Fame winds itself around many
And then none are taken.
Swept past the brink,
Jazzed by the oncoming
Rain,
Poisoned in the acid downpour.
The life of a performer,
Revolving doors in full
Swing.
Curtailed by the sweet
Taste of air,
A breath taken in,
Moment to relieve oneself
Of the approaching pain.
Head-on collision with ugliness,
Fallen away in
The soaked eyes closing
Themselves down for the
Night.
Air escaping a balloon at hyper-speed, shattering flaccid shards into floating confetti landing in the dust of a dream – again.
Very cool. I like “floating confetti landing in the dust of a dream – again.”
Your words inspired my words, impromptu.
😊
We are all performers and choose our stage. Your performance is to let words dance easily across that stage. Lovely piece 🙂