She was a performer,
Standing alone on the podium,
And with all the spotlights she froze like she was in a comma
But,soon,she started to feel alive because of the opium.
The crowd cheered,some jeered but,who cared?
They loved her and they all squeezed some time in their lives to come to see her.
They loved her smiled and theatrics but could they see through that superficial layer?
Because it was hard being her and tonight was harder because she was wearing fur...
She opened her mouth and watched slowly as it formed an opera tune.
And they all drunk in as if they were making out with her and in fact kissing her lips
They however couldn't hear her as she sung like a singer with a heart full of dunes.
And they only moved their heads to the sway of her hips.
They gasped and awed and aah-ed to her tales she told through song,
But to them the troubles were just a stunt and they wouldn't understand even if she clamored like a gong.
She told of her nightmares and that which made her not sleep at night,
And the fact that her environment was so fearful that she wouldn't cry even when her throat was tight,
She sang beautifully as she trained her song to yell out HELP!
But how could they help her when there was a worldly difference between a beautiful melody and a yelp?
She wanted to stop,risk it all and just tell them of her commiserations,
But she couldn't, because her perpetrator was in the audience and she was not ready for more obliterations.
She wished they could see her scars hidden behind the heavy layer of concealer,
And maybe rescue her from her incarceration or at least lead her to a healer
But she was just a performer and all she did or say would be treated like a performance...
★Esperanza★