put on your dancing shoes

This Depicts my hate for you.

The belt buckle that i know too well.

That breath, oh so familar; 1985 John Miller,

A loud cry, no... its only me.

Cramping in that corner;what an grotesque sight,

what might have been of me i would not have realised,

those eyes;these eyes

i never scrutunized deep enough to understand

Those Hands, Large and rough,

devoured my soul, stole my million future Dollars.

That chain, not only a bicycle retainer,

drips blood of mercy and tears of pain.

This Depicts My Hate for you.