alieneeeter

Here's a little some thing that I wrote while I was being ignored at the club last night. I think it's kind of poetic.

The Dancer

She was the only person dancing by herself on the floor, but she didn't seem to notice. I might not have noticed, but she was much better at it than the others: it was obvious that she felt the beat and the rythm deep in her soul. A cigarette in one hand, a beer in the other, and the music. It was all she wanted. It was all she had.