My heart is stirring, no nerve relaxing.
I find straight speech within me relapses.
There is a definitive difference between a crow,
And shaming a long lost crook.

Two left feet awkwardly stumble on stage.
My tongue ties and I begin to stammer.
Forget my lines, I’ve lost my luck!
My thoughts sit heavy like piles of lumber.

The crowd cackles carelessly as I stare blankly,
Complete failure I know to be so blasphemous.
What shall they say of me backstage?
Should I stay to hear their harmonious banter?

No! Never! Not a chance shall I again falter!
I’ll skip this scene and forget my fall.
Look! There is the lovely lady now, the balcony awaits.
Time to offer my heart and carry her away.

A brief respite I’ll take and catch my breath.
This is taking too long, I’ve lost all brevity!
Save me! Wherefore art thou great cue book?
Have I lost all sense while on bended knee and boot?

Something to go off of, give me a word!
Just a phrase! No? Anything woman!
Do not give pity to this poor fellow.
True, worse things have I felt!

Oh and you stare at me as if scorned?
Not a thespian am I, but a scoundrel?
Spare the insults, I’d rather have your pity
While I mark the day of a cast so pious.