I held the mic and stared.
I tried, no word came out.
the air was pregnant with words,
patiently awaiting their birth.
The audience's eyes feasted on me,
some were grinning,
Afore the unsaid lines.
"This Guy's crazy man! Funny." One whispered .
Someone clicked away at the Akallas,
a fashion statement, to them.
An economic statement,to me.
The art's love conquered my Hunger
the joy of words beat the fright.
someone sucked on a straw,
and my thirst subsided.
I licked my lips and turned the mic on.
Forgetting I had nothing for lunch,
forgetting I borrowed the fair,
not knowing how I'd get home
and knowing well I wouldn't get paid,
That I'd just get a half hearted applause
and a "thanks for performing" on my wall.
I licked my drying lips again,
and said my first line.
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