Posted in Poetry

Public Speaking: A Poem

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The black curtain rises

Sweat drips

Like heavy beads falling from the sky

The hot air balloon inside inflates

Thoughts find dark evaporation

I rise, I move, I stumble

Feet feel like Christmas sludge

I recover

Paper cut on the forehead

Eyes quiver but don’t shut

The podium sits all alone

Like a little boy on his first day of school

A turn to my right

I hope the land is barren

The dream hits a rough curve

Hi and hello

I continue with the decibel of a whisper

Looking on the vast crowd of crocodiles

Ready to chomp on ideas of inanity

The clock ticks

Mrs. Bucktooth looks down with a frown

Any minute now

Whisper to a scream

I die

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