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Borrowed Voice
I am quiet, like a field at dusk. Silent. Crickets. Muted.
I am loud, like birds at dawn. Noisy. Blaring. Roaring.
Total opposites, and yet, I am both.
At school. I keep my head down. Avoiding attention like a vampire to light.
After school, I hold my head high. Holding attention like a celebrity to paparazzi.
This is how it has always been.
In a classroom of 20, I watch.
On a stage infront of 200, I am the one people are watching.
Somehow, less is more for me.
I speak with a borrowed voice.
It is not mine, but my character’s.
And although the spotlight is on me, I hide behind my own shadow like a shield.
The stage is my home, but the guests at the door are unwelcome.
I keep to myself while they watch through the window.
Quiet and loud, such a confusing thing to be.
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