The Words Begin To Dance

Read me, As the words begin to dance, vacillating bewilderedly. Without knowing who and where, or even when, Foolishly stepped out, to meet a kind The kind with bitter, chunderous, nature. Kind, very kind without a doubt. A warm, contrasting view of this being 4 limbs, 2 faces, steps out to greet me, With its soft, frail hand, I pity the misunderstood, as rumours mutate And transmogrify, smothering the barbarous reality It smiled at me with one face While the truth is I set out to meet something different Something much different, Something noxious, oppressive being entitled To authoritarianism, ideology and power But it wasn’t here. Or at least not yet