I make the perilous trek

To the front of the class.

My palms dampen.

I pray not too look an ***.



I feel nauseated from the

Butterflies behind my navel.

As I look out across the faces

My voice turns to gravel.



Raspy words escape.

My voice unable to recant

The terror that shakes my words

As I address my audience.



I realize I have many kindred

Among my audience, but

This does nothing to temper the fear

Of Public Speaking 101