Headliner
The words knock loudly at my brain
Demanding an essay of all my pain
Describe the atrocities as they stain
Assaulting me before I can bray
Sunshine demands your waking day
You’re not a poet until you play
Whispers trapped in a series of gears
Clicking as you unveil your fears
Fake it normal around your peers
They listen but they cannot know
Small talk wrapped neat with a bow
Happiness disguised in an afterglow
The microphone falls from shaking hands
An audience crying in the stands
“Box of popcorn” the child demands
The spotlight flashes while she anoints
We dance around the sticking points
Legs hesitant to learn with aging joints
Style your sentiment in a basket weave
You suck in the air but no longer breathe
My heart shatters in pieces on my sleeve
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You’re not a poet until you play
Whispers trapped in a series of gears
Clicking as you unveil your fears
The way the poem reads rhythmically renders its content perfectly