"...on the dance floor." a poem By Ross E F Lombardi.

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"...on the dance floor."

By Ross E F Lombardi
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I need to dance sometimes.
But the reasons why are never seen.
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I do not dance to find a date.
If I like some woman,
Then it will be because of a cool connecting conversation,
Not just because we met on some dance floor.
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I do not dance because I think that I am good at dancing.
What anyone else thinks of my dancing is not my problem.
...Or at least...
...It should not be...
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I dance to fight...
But not in the way you might think...
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I am always fighting on the dance floor.
No one else is harmed,
No bouncers involved
No cops called
Alone or in a crowd,
I am still dancing alone.
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But not dancing.
Fighting.
Fighting on the dance floor against a thug.
A thug no one else can perceive.
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I am fighting on the dance floor.
Not just fighting.
I am fighting For My Life on the dance floor.
Against the ass hole that is trying to kill me.
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Dancing is my weapon.
If I lose - I get murdered.
If I lose I die.
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Dodging the sadness.
Blocking the striking memories.
Hitting back the beats with a dip of my hips.
Avoiding the attempted iron grip grappling of despair.
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This is not merely dancing.
This is not just "fun"
This fighting.

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Fighting to the death on the dance floor.

Fighting my depression.

Fighting the call to self-destruction.

Fighting until the bitter end.

Not giving in...

Never quitting...
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'Me' Vs an 'Inner Me'.
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