I sing above the unrhythemic choir
Of loud conversations
Congesting my head,
Hopes tighten their grip
Smiles curve down
When to the audience,
the ugly kid presents
With a breathy flute caged in clamy hands,
A melody dries
before reaching the crowd
I search for some familiarity
In agitated faces, sighing loud
They stare at me with eyes
Leaving cringing traces
From being a part of my failure
Their laughs throw insults at
My deflated stance
My hands, I can\'t tailor
To fit in the adequate space
Of where they should have been bouncing
To a masterpiece of the century
Playing a rhythm I\'ve practiced continuously,
My hands shield me into a snowball of numbness
If I burry myself enough
In the glitters maybe
I won\'t hear them shout
To throw the stiff mannequin
In the darkness
Of the background
Where he deserves...