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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