Craving An Audience
by Tabitha
The master artist,
spins words,
tells stories,
dreams dreams.
I watch,
wait,
baited breath
expelling.
Within me inspiration
beckons me to act,
I try to spin,
tell and dream.
I stand,
speak,
clumsy words,
telling.
No one listens,
or responds,
my anger grows,
my heart falls.
I crave,
want,
pretty pictures
crumbling.
I crave an audience,
but why?
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