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I stand upon this stage today, A different man than yesterday. Under these lights which shine my face, I take part in life's daily race. But I do not quiver, I do not fear, Like all the times of yester-year
Breathe in.                     Breathe out. Showtime!
Love Yourself, Speak Yourself These are the messages carried through their speeches In large rooms full of their critics Under the hawk eyes of netizens Waiting, watching Bated breath
A platform for Thespis and song,  I would like to thank the stage.  A barrier from audience and wrong,  I would like to thank the curtain.  A guide off the stage and on,  I would like to thank the lights. 
good poems dont come from your head they come from your hands they are words flowing from the blood of our wrists the stains of the past broken memories
Does Heaven have a stage? Does God have a microphone? Will I sing for Jesus when Heaven takes me back home? Does Heaven have a stage? A drum set and some guitars?
  Hey! I’ve realized that You are a Venn diagram, but You would never tell me that. Hm.    
The guitarist wrinkles his face as he concentrates with dignity.   He flips the page on the stand, and adjusts his fingers accordingly.   The acoustic guitar resonates
With the rays of the sun I'll make her crown With the fabric of space I'll make her gown With the rings of Saturn I'll make her throne With the universe for her stage may her reign last forever Long live the queen.
With the rays of the sun I'll make her crown With the fabric of space I'll make her gown With the rings of Saturn I'll make her throne With the universe for her stage may her reign last forever Long live the queen.
Notes float through the air. It's unthinkable how much dots with stems can change a mood, a life, a soul.  The right chord, the right instrument, the right dynamics make the song come
Thirty minute call! Dressed in costume and painted new Everyone prepares for the show to do Fifteen minute call! House lights come up and music too A signal they have completed their cue to cue
I still remember the young girl with the braids in her hair, Living her life freely without a care anywhere, Playing double dutch and hopscotch at the park, Tripping and falling creating scars and marks,
Right here Right here I stand Right here Right here I am Right here, right here I am right here Look to your left Look to your right Try as you might, you wont see me flee
  Phoenix Rise The stage, the lights, the crowd I transform into a different character
She was in a theater Where the chairs were uncomfortable and mushed together It was so crowded, people around her kept elbowing each other “Oh I’m sorry, oh I’m sorry” they replied Everyone was talking at once
Semisweet sounds fill the robust emporium Sarcastically, kids mimic the beauty of the melodies Soulful tones melt over every seat; molding the auditorium T
Yes I can get a little over excited,  apparently I'm told I do the most. For as long as I could remember,  I felt more joy with others than being by myself or "alone." 
Underneath the mask I wear, shrouded by the darkness.
Behind Walls  
  Raise the curtain Dim the lights Take the stage And shine bright   Play the part And look to the crowd Put on your mask But smile proud  
The world is on fire The cosmos did not mean to be in flames The passion of ballet I dedicate my life to it And when I go on Pointe the blood will rush through my feet as I rise trying to grow older
I didn’t know at first. First sight, first touch, it wasn't tantalizing until last night.
Small movements in the fingertips...        A slight raise of the chin...               Delicate steps onto the stage...                        A glittering smile to greet her prince....  
The time has come! My mind races as I wait to see that curtain rise. The one thing that makes me free to be whoever I wish and no one can judge me.
It’s been a year, a year since I’ve been to a concert.
Music, The notes fall off the page You listen to the beat The melody that flows   Tap your foot That’s the groove that you love to listen to   Batcha The drums go
    I walk in. Adrenaline, excitement, panic, and love crash into me all at once. I look up. Hundreds of lights, thousands of colors, and endless possibilities hang above me. I look out.
There is something  Something whispering in my ear I turn to see the soul creating the sound Nothung is there I am alone looking out into a whisperless crowd 
a stage, one lovely place, act to your heart's content and there below crowds of people all await your very life the truth scares me but
I'm waiting for our grand finale. Our curtain call, The stage is ours anyways.  
If I close my eyes, I can hear them The quiet mumbling of the crowd Voices mingling into one loud whisper
I was always told to dress the part so I put on my costume. A white collared shirt,  A skirt to my knees  And a mask of a forced smile Along with a face covered in pounds of makeup,
Have you ever been up on stage On display for all to see? To have such power over others emotions They laugh with joy  then cry with sorrow All this you create Its such a great privliage 
I'm a puppet, controlled by what I feel is Wrong. That won't work, my mind says. That is not a career.   What is a career? To assume I won't be happy under the Stage Lights
Spot lights cascade down in a silky mist of glimmer. The curtains move ghost like from side to side. Darkness all around, transports me to another world. One of freedom, one of faith, one of music, and one of taste.
When in all despair, I go there Waiting in the wings Where heart will soar and spirit fly Waiting in the wings All goes dark on the scheduled mark Waiting in the wings
The lights go down before the show begins. The music starts and it is time to act, To tell a story to the audience. I squint into the lights, so gold and bright. So much rehearsal has gone into this.
The theatre is all I know and love. I pour my pain into a role, hoping it will cease. But it never does. It's a curse to be an actor. It's not glamorous. It's not happy. It's not fame. It's not money.
The sun bursting through Dense clouds of despair and doom, Is this turn of time. The work completed, The pat-on-back I needed. Freedom without crime.
It was a tale of two She was Hip He was Hop They met in a frequency That no other knew of At a pace so fast That they left others behind Since that moment They stood hand in hand
Music is my life Some would say it is my wife I will attend school for music education To get out of my current situation Music is a little seed That is now easy to read
Center Stage The light caresses my face I open my mouth And sound rushes out Out across the crowd But I only hear one sound Their sound The sounds of their hollers
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