Caroline
Caroline stepped up to face the world,
Her pink-grey face grew more than slightly pale,
Her hands clasped a microphone of intimidating scale,
Oh how they wanted her to sing.
The audience with sat with expectation unfurled
But seemed so far away, so hard to hold,
Stale and fusty like a blue green mold,
Oh how they wanted her to sing.
The words came out timidly and slurred,
A sea of faces murmured as she spake,
With smiles quite bright but invariably fake,
Oh how she wanted them to sing.
She woke up with her ginger locks uncurled,
Despite the meek applause that she had worn,
The next day she moped sad and forlorn,
Oh how she wanted them to sing.
The world is but a stage
and we play but a part.
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