Scream

Red and blue lights plastered the stage,

covered by black curtains torn slgihtly with age.

She combed yellow nails through dark, matted hair

trying to find her breath in the suddenly stifling air.

Just a girl from the Emerald Isle,

trying to find something to make her life worthwhile.

All her life she had drifted through the moors,

Warning of death for the rich and the poor.

But she was so tired of screaming for nought

especially if it was only death and destruction she wrought.

But then music seized her haggard soul,

and she wanted to seize the world with rock and roll. 

She then drifted from different cities and states,

finding people who shared her musical tastes.

She found two others and started a band

and they became known as the Banshee's Land.

Pale, clammy hands grasped at her black jacket

as the announcer spoke over the outside clamour and racket.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please give a hand

for tonight's screamo band, Banshee's Land!"

The dark curtain then began to rise,

and the woman stood frozen in surprise.

A million thoughts raced through her head,

but her drummer, in comfort, said, "Don't worry, you'll knock 'em dead."

The guitarist nodded. "You got us, too, so just do your best."

And with that, all of her worries were put to rest.

The curtain ascended, and the crowd roared

ready to experience what they came for.

She took a deep breath and grabbed the microphone stand

as the beat was started by her band.

And as the music began to rise,

she scanned the crowd with her pale blue eyes.

Something ancient rose up from deep within her roots,

and she anchored herself in her black leather boots.

She took a deep breath, feeling something take hold in her chest,

ans she grabbed the microphone and did what she did best:

Scream.