Frighten the Stage
From the prompt "stage fright" 6/28/2025
If all the world is a stage,
I wasn't handed a script,
shying from the spotlight,
hair tied with ribbons of expectations,
knotted with a bow,
"Identity" made elegant,
pretty,
pleasing.
The players all rehearse behind velvet curtains,
practicing perfect, polite smiles,
projected laughter, and poise,
content in the roles they were born to fill,
miming legacy, mouthing belonging.
But I?
I wear my name around my neck,
a talisman of rebellion,
etched in silver, unsmudged by need for applause.
My heart pulses from my wrist,
prick me I'll bleed, So you can know me,
without costume or cue,
just honest, messy, and off-tempo,
hair out of place.
They want me to bow,
to walk their thin, red carpet,
to chase participation trophies in their guilt-ridden guild.
But I speak sideways,
truth pouring from the corners of my red lipped mouth,
singing off-key,
breaking the fourth wall,
leaving through the audience,
dropping a single, crimson, rose.
I hope they gasp.
I hope they never forget the scene.
I wasn't born to perform.
I was born to be remembered.
About the Creator
Ellie Hoovs
Breathing life into the lost and broken. Writes to mend what fire couldn't destroy. Poetry stitched from ashes, longing, and stubborn hope.
My Poetry Collection DEMORTALIZING is out now!!!: https://a.co/d/5fqwmEb
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Comments (2)
This isn't just a poem—it’s a manifesto. Bold, defiant, and unforgettable. You didn’t take the stage. You owned it.
This was fantastic. Every line lead perfectly up to "I was born to be remembered." Most definitely, they will gasp and never forget.