Many hands moving
In wave like patterns
Left slowly
Right suddenly
Legs kicking madly
Flailing around as though independent from the dancer's mind
One boy laughs
At how silly all of these poor people look
With their movements synchronized
Sitting far enough away to hear their
Taps being sounded from the wood floor of the stage
All eyes forward
All movements together
Never missing a beat
The little boy knows what he is seeing
Every trace of self destroyed
All that you once stood for
Or ever stood for
Ever though in your life
Robbed from you
Stolen by the wretched dance
Whether it be by your choice or not
You lose a piece of yourself between the rythm
And sounds of the orchestra
As conformity you
The poor confused dancer
As all of your morals and memories
Are replaced in one moment of synchronicity
During your dance
Trading your life for rythm
Think about this
And mark my words
You will be frightened
At how even a simple dance
Can take your life away.

 
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