A Better Song
The alarm clock goes off, she's slighty sick she releases a cough.
The bathroom has no water, outside it sounds like a slaughter.
A gunshot lets out a close fire, in fact the bullet gets caught in her tire.
But she walks outside shaking like she didn't just dodge that knocked down wire.
Suddenly the warring of the gangs, haters, and angry cease as they stare and long for her peace.
Her car won't crank, but this usually gloomy girls still gets a start in her heart.
She gets out and when she passed her neighbor has time to talk and the rest of her way to work, decides to moonwalk.
She thinks herself a worm, but today feels so beautiful she's admired by every hawk.
The streets are nasty and grimy, her flamin feet obliterates all the slimy.
She makes in the building, her boss usually hates but today gives a good morning with no warning.
She's not even surprised, the other workers are peaking from their cubicles and she's not even realized.
Then the birds, and bangers from earlier march in, and along with her co workers have one question.
What's up with you? What are you dancing to?
But she doesn't hear them like she's not even near them.
And nobody is offended by her lack off answer or the fact the fact she's not even a great Dancer.
Because now they're all addicted, not to the usual drugs but to her happiness and spirit
Because now they get what she's dancing to, they're joining in to the music and suddenly all of them can hear it.
But theirs isn't like hers, I can't explain it all there are so many they're to me just blurs.
What's important is now everyone gets to move, everyone's found their groove.
Everyone has something or somebody even if it's not a lot, see?
And everyone has now caught her contagious spirit, and to think in the beginning only she could hear it.
Copyright © Markell Brady-Whitfield | Year Posted 2015
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