The Silent ballet of the Piouretting Skirt

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Until I’m inert
And gift-wrapped 
in dirt
I have little choice 
but to deal with the hurt;
The cruelty I blurt,
And the friends I desert,
While I act
Extrovertedly
And sometimes 
introvertedly
Which leaves me subvertedly
Alone 
So with a pronouncement most over
And a passion to convert
I turn to 
the flirt;
the silent ballet 
Of the piouretting skirt.

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