Brickbats and Bouquets

Standard

 

she called them that

and it stuck in my head

so I’ve danced through my life like a demented ballerina, courting the bouquets and the brickbats both

chiseled and marked and moulded and shaped by the impact from each

pirouetting around my stage

stumbling, straightening, sliding again

wearing my insults and applause like trophies

losing myself

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