Baby Dancer

I'm scared. 

I'm scared like a mo fo, bo. 

I don't know if I can go toe to toe

eye to eye, surprise to hides

anymore.

I don't know. 

We can dance a dance

and plunder pilfered protections

but this infection,

again?

I don't know and I'm scared. 

The scars barred and flung our faces 

to face this and now,

I have millions of excuses

validated and stated in the handbook of

"what not to do"

and this knot we do. . . 

I'm scared and I don't know. 

I'm sick of carrots and you have strings of them.

I see your appetite for running now

and, hungry as I am. . . 

I don't know.

Now we've just swapped places 

and facing this, embracing this, 

well, Baby Dancer,  

maybe we can see you breathe,

but. . .  

I'm scared. 

This twice invested

vice infested start. . .

I don't know if my heart can take it anymore.

You're either giggly or grown,

but now knowing what I've always known,

I. . . 

I'm scared and I don't know.