Poetry Be Like

 

Poetry be like
Here	 are my demons
Prior to clapping,
The crowd lets out a gasp 	so deep
It turns their stomach to sinkhole

Calmly and professionally,	 I present them
At the mercy of your judgment 
Your gavel
While my stomach	 is literally upside down
Or perhaps gravity ceased to apply for a minute	in there
Either way,	Why haven’t I digested these butterflies yet?

Echoes of 
“Why are YOU nervous?”
Bounce off the walls in the mouths of people
Who were under the impression 	that I was beyond anxiety 

But I ain’t
And truthfully,
I’m nervous because
this is an execution of self

This is exorcism,	spill demons on stage
Written with precision 
To get surgical as I cut deep
And bleed as your sacrificial lamb

It’s never
    just a performance 
It’s more like a Monsters, Inc. scare simulation
As I manifest a magical door out of my metaphors
A gateway 
to my closet 	where paranormal of past and present 
feed on my screams nightly

To you       It’s just a cool scar 
	that all the kids gather around 
To commend me on my bravery of surviving
	To me
I's still a very fresh wound 

Yet, I pour alcohol on it in front of you
To prove that I’m healing 
To let you know that it’s painful
But this is the process
Or else,       letting the wound sit and fester
Leads to a fatal infection

I’m nervous because I’m about to step up there 
	and get completely naked
While you paint your own perspective
On a private canvas 
As you sip your wine
With a facial expression that’s left open to 
interpretations

Nervous because 
This is me
Making a mirror out of you
As I step outside my body
to speak the lessons that I need
And I’m not too sure 
what the truth 
Will look like 
unleashed