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Breathe in. Breathe out. Showtime!
The hard metal risers held the students, Creaking under the large weight. Onto the next song in the performance, The conductor hastily turns on the mic. He, in his strapping tuxedo, faces the audience,
The lights, they beam down with powerful visibility. The stage, outstretched and lonely as far as I can see. The audience, physically unseen, but I’m conscience of their stares.
Up on stage all lights and eyes on me and me alone Bare myself, my soul Choose me my quiet heart voice whispers Thank you, next Callbacks Pitter-patter, hope List is up
I like to put plastic bags over my head. I like to pull them down over my eyes, so I can’t see anything but the light that permeates them.
Fight The Fear Slam Poetry Scholarship By Julianne Rosko I stand in front of the crowd I hear some people cheering
I have eaten lead my last three meals. My face flush My hands quake Is this what fibrillation feels like? I have not drank in days.
Hearing God talk to you through your own thoughts is always interesting.
The sight scared me. The murmuring audience, the lights turned down to half, standing center stage...
Keeps me on my toes like a dancer Watch my words curtsey at the end of each line Enunciating as if my words didn't fall short with country Not ready to confess, but I'll write
People gather to listen to the Opening of a soul’s speech, where Emotions are exposed in the Trials and tribulations of life. Reality comes crashing down on that stage. Yells and hollers encourage
Your heart races Your hands start to shake Scared of the faces, The impression you'll make. You close your eyes The voices start to stop That's when you realize
A bare rubber sole taps hastily agaiunst the linoleum tile, pencil erasers bounce continuously all the while. In accordance with a strict militant cadence, the test takers continually lose patience.
My brain struggles to translate. There are multitudes of boxes and spilled paperwork, Squares and circles and words running down the walls All by themselves. I love them