Cha Cha Cha

Not often do I do the dance,
of self-preservation.
Rarely don’t I do the tango,
of self-reflection.

Keep up with expectations,
stay low with realizations.
Move along the tracks
of deep dejection
profound woefulness
and rooted sorrow.

My melancholy and mortification
tenders the trench
of my intoxication.

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