The room was mine
A canvas to play with.
My dark heart would shine
As we flowed through my playlist
A curated collection
A certain rhythmic flow
Where once I sought perfection
I am now I scarecrow.
Lost without a heart
For my muse has been censored.
Should have known from the start
That the belly of the beast, I have entered
These faceless corporations
With their rules and regulations
For art, they have no patience
But the fact I have to face is...
Teaching yoga doesn't pay
Financially, at least
Until of course I find a way
To find my heart and slay the beast. ✌️ Subscribe if you wanna see this podcast thrive 🙏 Check out yogabud.org for more • Instagram: @yogabud.flow
