Empty Applause

Recently, I have been working on a reader's theatre fictional narrative with a few close friends. It is a project for school and many people are in groups. This week, we are presenting them. The teacher kept reiterating the rules for polite audience behaviour, don't giggle, project, enunciate, and blah, blah, blah. However most of all, it was that if you weren't prepared, it was your loss. So instead of listening to her drone on and on, I decided to write a poem. This is the poem I wrote 10 minutes after I wrote "Love."

Empty Applause:

I bash, ruin, and fail.

An epic fail.

The performance was dreadful.

Utterly horrid.

My voice was low,

My shoes squeaked,

I didn't know my cues,

And I completely freaked.

I did an improvision,

To cover up my loss.

Of talent and of skill,

But only at a cost.

The guilt is overwhelming

Envelopes my body.

Ashamed and sullen,

I'm feeling very naughty.

I look into the crowd,

At all the pleased faces.

I felt like I won,

But cheated through the races.

I tricked them into thinking,

I was ready as could be.

But my funny, yet lame improvisions,

Just came naturally.

My effortless performance

Was success in their eyes, not mine.

It was more than mediocre,

But to me, it wasn't fine.

I had chosen to waste the time,

Of which I had been given a plenty.

I looked out towards the audience

And my feelings were empty.

(Applause.)

P.S. This is MOST DEFINITELY not my group's performance. We have practiced our routine almost 1,342 times. (hyperbole.) ( :) tee hee! )