THE DAY THE DANCERS CAME
Everytime I opened my mouth, I gave myself away.
No one listened to me, they all avoided me.
I like to believe that they had been briefed too well:
Do not talk to strangers. Ignore their invitations.
Keep away from them. Trust no one.
What then could I do?
Scream out my good intentions? Prove my harmlessness?
Beat my breast to show my sincerity?
What a truly wretched man I am!
Nevertheless, their presence made me alive and well.
If only I could talk to them, guide them around Chicago,
spend money on them, take them to my apartment,
cook for them, and show my love for them.
But it never happened and it would never be.
The only thing they have left for me was their voices,
the sounds from my magic sound mirror
that give joy and hope to my life.
They are my treasures and the music to my lonely life.
How then could these things happened to me?
What have I done to be doomed like this?
I could not believe that the memories I once cherished,
the past I would never forget, would be taken from me that fast. They are like smoke in the air that suddenly disappeared.
Maybe I will never hear their voices again,
but in my heart and mind,
the memories I once shared with them will be forever cherished. I know that my life would not end in here,
nor the world would stop and grieve for me.
For tomorrow is another day!
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