A budding blossom poisoned by the dread of empty seats.
Fear of faces bowed as they scroll through favored tweets.
Fear of crickets clapping, dismissed by the applause.
Fear of ten toes tapping, wearied for this cause.
Will I find the words that bled boldly to book’s page?
Will terror mark me mute as I stride onto the stage?
The most paralyzing fear is of failing those oppressed.
That my words will be unworthy of the plights that I address.
This poem reflects my fear of failing those in need on a spoken word stage. That my own insecurities will prevent art from changing lives. This poem is fear of failure. Fear of not being understood. Fear of rejection. Spoken word is the art of change.