It's show time.

Panic has your hands set to vibrate.

Stage fright.

Makes it hard to turn the wheels of this act. 

 

"Can I have your number?"

You've forgotten your line.

No. 

Don't dig for an answer in your skin,

Close the curtain. 

 

"Want to go eat with us?" 

Answers are stuck in your throat but, thank god, for the automated voice machine and then,

Close the curtain.

 

"You're a real witch, you know that?"

The world is growing dark around you.

Close the curtain,

And let her believe you are the witch she suspects you to be.

 

I could turn the cogs of this machine until they are rusted. 

I think I'll do just that. 

 

"You failed to get a 'C' or higher last semester."

"Why don't you go out with your friends?"

"Do you ever leave your room?" 

 

When was the last time you felt like tearing up the world with your screams?

This morning. And the night before. And the morning before that.

Fear is a strict director. 

I barely sleep with all the hours it's got me working.

But there are days off.

 

To open the curtain for a moment,

Driving in the car with the windows down. 

Let Led Zeppelin fill the space between your ears.

Let them tell you about what happens "When the Levee Breaks".

And believe them when they tell you to "Ramble On".

 

And when you get home, forget your duffle of burdens in the trunk and 

Open the curtain.

Let your Father rub your shoulders, and your Mother make your favorite dish. 

Lay your weary head,

The show will go on without you.