Queen of Mediocrity

I wrote some words upon a desk
I hoped you'd never see
But with the force I wrote those words
It's clear you got to me
I told myself I wouldn't fall
For anyone like you
No fairy tales, no royal ball
My skies are never blue

Why should this change now
I don't believe in destiny
Get on your knees and bow
To the Queen of mediocrity
And nothing else makes sense
Nothing else rings true
So try at your expense
I'll never be with you

And the world keeps spinning onwards
Won't stop for fools like me
My life is spinning backwards
How could I ever believe

Why should this change now
I don't believe in destiny
Get on your knees and bow
To the Queen of mediocrity
Nothing else makes sense
And nothing else rings true
So try at your expense
But I'll never be with you

I'll never be with you
Get on your knees and bow

More Than Stage Fright?

The bright stage lights are blinding. The reds, and blues and greens all blend to brilliant white. You shade your eyes from the intense glare, and take in some of the audience. Some are waiting expectantly for you to begin, some chatter loudly in their seats not paying you the least bit of attention. Some are already sleeping, some are laughing, others are pointing. Pointing at blank space as if they can't see that you're the only one on the stage, surrounded by a raw black. Centred in the spotlights. Your mind is spinning from the lights and the heat. you simply want to collapse, but can't, how embarrassing. They're all waiting, and they'll continue to wait. you just need to say you piece, maybe they'll listen, but you daren't hope for applause. Say what you need to say, and then maybe you'll be able to escape from here, from where you stand alone. Or maybe they can just dim the lights for a while, if you must continue to parade. your mind is as blank as all the watching faces, wiped clean of all that you had rehearsed, all that you remember. You realize that you've been here longer than you'd anticipated. And why must you continue to provide their entertainment? Why must your life be a constant spectacle? The curtain isn't closing anytime soon, so you have two choices. Make a brave face and push onwards, improvise your way through, make it up as you go. Far from perfect, but probably the best you can hope for. You can remain under the lights, coated in makeup, acting a part you were never meant to play. Or you can walk out. Walk away. Away from the expectations of what your performance must be. you can leave behind the pressures of always having to outdo the previous act. You could leave what you've always known and pray there's something better out there. And maybe there is, and maybe there will be. Away from the spotlights, maybe you'll take off the plastic mask, remove the ridiculous costume and makeup. Maybe then you'll know more than these black walls and this wooden floor. But you must make a choice, for the show must go on, with or without you. The exit is stage left.