Typo

The words flow
from soul to page
while waiting backstage
beaming all aglow.

Time at last
to let others see
what is inside me
my creativity unsurpassed.

They call my name
I rise to leave
try to believe
this is my claim to fame.

Out on stage
before the crowd
standing proud
in the batting cage.

I give it my all
but there they sit
thinking me unfit
some start to cat call.

The curtain falls
the stage manager screams
tears flow in streams
you can hear him in the halls.

How was I supposed to know
the call for naked chicken
was actually baked chicken
tonight at the senior’s chateau.

 

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