a faulty magic trick

My future feels like,
a faulty magic trick.
The air itches with anticipation,
as everybody waits to see,
what I can pull out of the hat.

But my hands are shaking,
and my mind is going blank.
I can't remember the words,
to the beat of my own life.
The smile etched onto my face does not waver.

And the stage is crumbling beneath me,
while the audience's lips twitch.
A guttural laugh disturbs the silence.
And at the exact same moment,
the truth dawns harshly on me.

My pain is their release.
The aching was not made to cease.