“How many dances” by Robyn Radcliffe

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How many dances

How many dances will you dance alone?
When the music becomes a monotonous drone
Once light-hearted steps, now achingly weary
The familiar movements, so soulless and dreary

How many chances to clean up the mess?
When the battle impedes the straight path to success
Or is life just a game, tactical, move a pawn
And then sit back and wait for the lines to be drawn

How many advances before realisation?
That rejection is always a bitter sensation
You soldier forth blindly, repeat the same past
All the while knowing the wonder won’t last

How many stances will you take to be heard?
Will you fight the good fight, or bow down to the feared
Brave unknown foes, or just quietly cower
When will you face up and own your own power?

 

 

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