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May 2015
Suddenly I stand up to the mic;
               The rooms starts to spin.
               Nobody is talking,
               Everyone is staring through me;
My heart starts beating.
My hands start sticking.
My body starts sweating.
My face turns tomatoe red.
              I wish I was dead;
              Instead I'm here at this poetry jam -- Frozen.
Styles
Written by
Styles  NYC
(NYC)   
387
     Nicole Dawn, Poetic Thoughts and ---
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