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Image for the poem Our Frantic Dance

Our Frantic Dance

Death stands near, covered in her cloak of darkness
looking on with admiration at our frantic dance.  
Does she marvel at how we vainly seek what can never be ours?
How puzzling she must find humans,  
always approaching our deaths  
with desire for one more hour of life.
Written by Nizana (Lauryn)
Published
Author's Note
The first line of this poem was sent by mother as a text with no explanation and no response from my questions. While waiting for any response from her, I did a graphic that captured my thoughts. Every thought of her is dark right now.  - Nizana's Daughter
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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