Runway

Every thread, stitched by my hand, can unravel, I think

Every step carries potential falls

I’ve draped myself in the guise of a fan-favorite

Covered my face with unnatural colors

 

My name is announced as a handle

And my character is not my own

But the anonymity provided by my masquerade

Does not stave the adrenaline

It does not redirect the gazes

Every inch is covered but I am still exposed

 

“X” marks three spots

I do not do my first two justice

In worry my lungs brace Third’s oncoming aria

The character was written in song after all, I think

I am numb to the first note

But the last is drowned out by cheers

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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