Breadcrumb #372


Let me dress,
that thread you pull,
let me weave it
and wind it up,
like a spinning top,

Please say it's
my color, please compliment
me.  I try to stand on my
own two feet but I slip
my teeth across kind words,
how they fill me.

I'm just another restless
voice looking for someone
to say, Well said.

I still have my wisdom
teeth, but I lack the wisdom
to stop dressing up,
to stop my stage-prancing

The performance continues
until I'm tired
of the masks and all.

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