Suicidal Dancers Poem by Mark Heathcote

Identifying with every tortured soul
I patch into all sides, thoughts and feelings
every concept has teeth and snapping jaws.
Tortured hearts listen to all these dealings
weighing up the pros and cons of long claws
unchallenged egos like lions uncontrolled.
Baited alligators rolling like logs
suicidal dancers trying not to be eaten,
praying their dull cold skies will still sweeten,
and a bright rainbow turns back all their clocks.