I went to a bar taking with me, my guitar.
Nerves and fright were carried with me.I took a few shots and prayed to god,
that he didn't let my voice fail me.
I questioned my will, felt unskilled
but then the drinks crept up to save me.I again assessed the situation.
The bar owner extended an open invitation.
I couldn't speak, my knees were weak,
but all those shots had me feeling a sort of bravery.The moment I stepped on stage,
I added to the chapter, another page.For what I'd sing, I couldn't remember.
The stage lights seemed to cast a halo of fire.Though the words seemed to evade me.
Another prayer that the floor didn't forsake me.I shoved deep down, my worries of doubt
Closed my eyes, willing the sounds
of the world to slowly die out.My fingers started strumming the strings.
Acoustic sounds, a sense of comforting.
I begin and started to sing.My tattoos are very random. I get them when I travel, at rinky dink places... some were... not so good, but I leave them
because it's a great conversation starter,
right?The one closest to my wrist is a feather mixed with Moonlight Sonata lines,
Retro dynamic vocal phone, acoustic guitar, piano keys,
dead tree with owl(Poe🤍),
and a crescent moon.Rest are two pistols adorned with wings, mermaid, Stevie Nicks Landslide lyrics.. blah blah blah yo girl has a lot...
One sleeve.
So, this is for you that asked.Stage fright is a bitch.
But, Oasis..
YOU ARE READING
Weight of Words
PoetryPoetry.. For the broken, misguided, mistreated, abused & sometimes ...in the mood.