My grips tight, words trapped within,
Silent screams, a battle begins.
Mic stands tall, a daunting sight,
Heart races fast, shrouded in fright.
Trembling hands, a shaky start,
Lost my voice on track.
The wind sighed through trees,
Each word spoken became swords.
Slowly, slowly, the sweat recedes,
As words find voice, fulfilling needs.
The microphone, a bridge to share,
Conquering unease, in the public glare.
YOU ARE READING
WE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED
General FictionCollaboration of Poem's and Flashfiction :>
