The Selling Crowd

You push through the heavy draped curtain
Stand, on the cusp of the stage,
Tilt your head back, slightly to the side
Embracing, what’s to rise up next,
Drums, perching on the echo of your ears
As you hum, your own song,
Jeers howling out from the massive crowd
While you applaud yourself
For breaking script, even with the terror
You are held by, locking you in their
Sight, from backstage
Until the end of the show.

©DorianPoe 2015

Advertisements