Every morning, I awake with a knot in my stomach.
The day is my stage, and I must perform.
The stage-fright of life is overwhelming.
It’s showtime, and I don’t even know my lines…

If I were a success, I would have confidence
But I have persistently bombed with the audience dear to my heart
I have been booed on by the very ones I wanted to impress
Worse, the One for which I offered my most sincere recital, has left her seat for good.

I’m that bad.

True, I still have many rooting for me,
Applauding me, winking, with their thumbs up high…
But most have not invested in my spectacle,
Some haven’t even paid for their seat.

Maybe that’s one of my problems; most come to the show for free
While the ones I love and cherish,
Pay a too dear a price to see my act…
I can’t wait to go backstage and get some rest.

As I wipe my make-up off, and see the real me revealed,
It’s then I wonder why I even bother,
If at the end of all this, I just end up alone
Alone and open to ridicule.