Self Awareness

Seems like I’m a show. If the previews want to know, there’s nowhere to go.

I’m an improvised show, but I trust and that’s enough to flow. I’m still nervous, because I want to practice it perfect, though.
Too hinged on survival, I hope I’m not in denial.

Sometimes I’m crazy to agree, it can’t be me.
I’m boring, performing, and I might run.
Could I be someone.

My morale is down from practice rehearsals.
I don’t think I’m that good, so,
Maybe it’s time to just cut the curtains, completely close the show, and find another go.

But wait, I don’t know, I have nothing but just a brain.
A person trying in training.
I’m working for my own wish is why I spend all my time practicing for this.
I feel surreal.
Please, quiet on the set, and don’t judge it yet.

You could be truly honest with me.

---

Prelude is a poem to be written in a style where each line (narrative) flows with multiple rhymes. I wrote it from the perspective of a performance artist, imagining the pressure of performing.

This is practice writing for my next song.