All he ever wanted

All he ever wanted was to dance. Living amidst the pens, papers, and shiny metal cups holding them all, he would dance all night long. Alas, he was made out of wood. He posed his dancing poses with his stiff wooden joints, but it wasn't as much of a dance as he would have liked. I once could speak to wooden things, and he told me. He told me of his burning desire to dance. He was exactly certain as to where, and was fairly certain on the dances he would dance, and was more or less sure that it would never happen. Then again, whose to say wood isn't a living thing?

It may be alive, but not alive enough to DANCE.


Poor, poor, wooden human sculpture thingie.