He looks at the paper then back at the crowd, In his head his heart beats loud.
Just the thought of that particular emotion, gets the adrenaline flowing.
Hoping hes doesn't stumble or stutter, and he knows he has to speak from the ab, so his voice has more bass than thunder.
He has to perfectly project the picture painted in the poem, He folds up the piece of paper, and steps into the zone.
He looks to what made him write so rapidly, remembering everything so vividly.
Find the rhyme in the reasons, he starts speaking, as sweat stars leaking,
and the words flow out more graceful than a cup of water being pored out, there is only he and the words, no less, no more, no crowd.
No stage, no rage, no cage!
Just him and the reasons, he is writing, and this is why he is always open-mic-ing!