DM

In the inexplicable grey

Of rainy Saturday

My mind is all a whirr

Gossip abounds

A flurry of sounds

It's all a buzzing blur

Sat in the corner

I'm little Jack Horner

As words flow without pause

I'm a voyeur extreme

In a nightmare dream

A lost and lonely cause

Unnoticed I'm not

Strange looks are shot

At the sole man in the room

An awkward half-smile

Disguises the guile

More than the sweet perfume

I'm involved, nonetheless

As discussions digress

From shoes to hair to men

I'm tempted, I find

To denegrate my man-kind

And I almost do, when 

The realisation hits

Suddenly I'm in bits

Turned traitor was almost complete

Shocked at my flaw

Standards so poor

I nervously shuffle my feet

It's a battle of wills

Against their Borg-like skills

What did I almost become?

Assimilating all

My pride took a fall

As I almost turned Dance Mum