What should I do?

He doesn't have a clue.
He doesn't give a ****.

Shall I tear in pieces?,
bleed my hearted will out?

Too **** sick and tired of that.

I choose...
Las Vegas' lights kind,
a singing lesson,
a vibrant red
to dismiss greyness,
this shadow in my eyes.

I choose...
to feel it all piercing me
and yet to dance

(finally!)

              and so

I call upon
my african soul
and summon
a storm.

There.