An extract from a book i'll never write | Poetry |

Five: UNFOCUSED

The worlds a stage and all the men and women are merely players.
That’s what they told me, for a moment just a moment I believed them,
It was when I was a small child and I would love to go up on stage,
The dance, perform and act.
But years have passed and I have become wiser and unsure

I have begun to realise that I am afraid of the stage that the wold walks along.
To even walk and talk in public terrifies me.
The way they stair and lock their eyes on you makes me feel breathless and unfocused
My vision becomes a blur and my mind races with toxic thoughts.

It’s like I’m in the middle of a busy motorway
Cars past with the speed of light, a never-ending chain of cars become one streak of light and with the pitch of an abandoned child screaming for her lost mother.

In this play that I am living, I’m not one of the special people who have one of the main parts
I am someone in the back of the stage
With my arms and legs tied up and my mouth covered with silk blood red cloth
And I am constantly screaming for someone to help.
But everyone carries on
Distracting themselves from what’s really happening behind the centre stage.
They can’t hear me,
No help will come.
So I sit here crying and screaming.

After my tears have dried up and I have lost my voice
I would wish that the black curtains would fall,
The man watching the show would applaud then leave
And the blinding lights would go out.