and you panic. you fear that you won't be good enough. you fear that you'll make the wrong move. you fear that you will not be able to do great things.
and you move. you move with the rhythm of the floorboards squeaking. you move to the beat of your pounding heartbeat. you move to the sound of the thumping in your head.
and you stare. you stare at the people watching your every move. you stare towards the crowd of a thousand, piercing eyes. you stare into the brightness with a composed look, even though on the inside you're a wreck.
you give a little bit more than the original version of yourself because you know you'll never get this very moment again.
// m.m.
YOU ARE READING
Epodic
PoetryPoetic Rant Book Series - #2 A collection of poetic like sentences and/or small poems. Plus, a few poetically put rants. (lower case intended)
