My throat feels constricted as I stand yet once again on the stage,

It bubbles inside me; the hidden anger, the fury, the rage-

The microphone sits between my sweaty hands,

And I remember; the dreams, the hopes, the plans.

There’s an aspiration within willing to stop hiding it away,

For those deep written verses to be on display,

The life previously hidden, shown without a doubt,

I wish; to scream, to shout, to let it all out.


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