Spontaneously, I start
Free-styling poetry for my friend.

I end up thinking,
"I can't believe I said that out loud,"

But then it hits me, deep down, that
I wish there was a crowd.

I've been to a few open mics, and
It was nice to share what I write.

My legs shake on stage.
I gave up trying to control it.

I'm proud in spite of
The way I look afraid.

I refuse to hide it
When my legs shake.