So, I wrote this poem about a month ago(4/23/07), and I was going to wait even longer to post it, but after the embarassment I received at musical practice today, I needed something to cheer me up. (CoughreviewCough) So, the embarassing moment? Well, we're doing Into The Woods Jr. And at the end of the finale we go to black out and everyone is supposed to go off stage and get ready to come back on for our bows. This is the first time we've done the black out. At the end of the finale I am onstage right, and during blackout I have to get offstage left. I couldn't see ANYTHING during blackout, and during my walk offstage, i ran into the trees. THe thing is, if you touch a tree, you die(LoL). So there's this huge crash and when the lights come on and sitting in this weird crouch position holding onto this fake tree for dear life all the while thinking "Oh my goodness, i knocked down trees - they're gonna kill me!" Well, they didn't kill me, but as soon as the lights turned on everyone crowds me and is like "are you OK?!" and it took me a couple seconds to realize I could let go of the tree. I was beet red! So my directors are like "Give her a hand!" (trying to make me feel better.) Then they sent everyone to the dressing rooms to get out of our costumes and I'm one of the last ones back onstage for our little 'pow wow'. So I come out leaning on my best friend for moral support and everyone - cast and crew - start applauding again calling me "tree hugger". It was actually pretty funny, but very, very embarrassing me. Thankfully from now on I do not have to walk across the stage in total black out.
OK, enough rambling, onto the poem!
For I Am
Looking in the mirror,
What do I see?
Uncontrollable power,
unsurpassed intelligence,
beautiful tragicness, perhaps?
When you look at me,
What do you see?
An abomination,
a freak,
a terror, maybe?
You called me an
artichoke;
I call you fakes:
Cruel people
hiding behind plastic smiles.
Well, guess what?
You're still hiding
behind your plastic smiles
not realizing that
'wonderful' is a lie.
They call me a terrorist,
and gush about your goodness.
It doesn't irk me much, though,
because unlike you,
I can do anything I want.
For I am the Wicked Witch of the West
PS: I sent this poem to Julia Murney! Eek! I hope she likes it!