Missed cue

I wanted to be right so badly

I always got it wrong.

Made the wrong step

stumbled over and twisted my ankle

on the same crack in the pavement

I swore to remember next time.

Yet I keep pretending its all part of the choreography.

laughing just before the punchline

loud and desperate

the sounds of someone just trying to fit in.

The joke lands somewhere else

never where I am standing.

I cannot stand who I am now

this girl who preforms with a mouth full of broken lines.

These lights are merciless

peeling off my skin with every mistake.

The audience watches

just long enough to know this isn't an act

the fumbling,

the stuttering,

the limping,

this is the performance.

Somewhere theres a version of me

who didn't laugh to soon

knew all her lines,

and doesn't walk on the same ruined ankle.

But I am not her.

This is me,

bowing to late,

laughing to early,

bleeding through the costume

waiting for a curtain,

thats never coming down.