Perfect Stain

Why am I getting colder, chaos brings a great heat,

You can hear my vocals trembling when I speak,

The crowd is too loud and too wild,

I feel tine, timid, terrified and meekly weak,

You would think that I would be used to this sense we weekly compete,

I can feel the moisture of my palms as my throat fills with bile,

Undefeated, suffering from emotional defeat,

Yeah…I probably look like a creepy freak with sharp pains in his ass and dull spikes being forced through his feet.

Doubt in my head, blood drought in my legs, heart painted with dread,

Have I passed two minutes,

Am I slurring my sentence…es?,

I would rather be bled, or dead, or in bed, is my face too red, I feel like my face is too red,

These judges are relentless,

Speak with much fervor, probe for no repentance,

Ah, my perfect picture punctured, I have found my error,

Deep within my fame, arrogance and disdain, a mantle of modesty, I obliged to be the wearer.

Four out of ten,

My composure is cut thin,

My head’s under water,

Disappointed faces of who I thought to be my friends,

Accept the change because this time we didn’t win,

I remain still and the walls begin to spin,

A quick response to alterations, prompted altercations, and disbanded pride within my father,

Covert tears, throbbing ears, and clamoring gins.

I…am…frozen on stage,

The shouting, pouting, and my doubting stops,

Clouding eyes, and black spots, and blood clots and then I drop,

When I slept I thought of the debates and the mistakes I made,

I wake to a smell of perfume and a ceiling with black dots,

Arms fitted in little slots where they administered hydration shots,

Misfortune hit their core, when I hit the floor,

Danger negates the presence of spurning faces and hate, and more.

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