pdefined19

Click-clank, click-ckank, clink-clank, clink-clank

These locks only tighten their grips in front of filling stands

Doors bang, feet stomp, eyes scowl.

The vision of these iron chains only become sharper. 

I want to stop shaking, stop twiddling my fingers

And move out the sight  of these lockdown stares.

I have a job to do!

My name is called in front of the nasses.

It's time to put a show, but when will these chains let go?

When my hand clutches the mmic, when my vocal chords unwrap, 

then it is I who has conquered the fear of public speech. 

The words run out my mouth, my breath follws after.

I havea voice you hate to love with a personality you love to hate.

The crowd really loves me.