Yogabud

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