Day

I put on a great show. As the audience cheers I feel a sense of warmth and relief. My job is done. But as the curtains drop so does my smile. I walk out the door and step into my car. With idle expressions like the engine I started, I head to my dreary home. Arriving to a house of silence my hand reaches for the stereo. The music slowly sings through the speakers as my thoughts begin to empower me. I start to write, expressing written explanation of buried emotions. No pity from this pencil, no hugs of reassurance from the sounds of these speakers. I politely express my true self without the distortion of attention seeking and pitiful words of care and concern. Late night draws near as I close these words to a finish. Laying in bed, staring upon the watchful eyes of God, I fall asleep. For tomorrow is a new day, but still my pencil and stereo awaits. Anxious to hear of what the day has given me. Anxious to read what thoughts I express. Anxious to know how I feel in my heart.