Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2014
I sat in silence as I watched a man practically get booed of stage.
He only wanted to tell jokes, to make us laugh and be happy.
What did he get for his hard work?

Faces of stone and the occasional awkward chuckle.
Another artist who couldn't appease the peoples desires.

I felt pity, but I guess it was more sympathy.
Because I know what it feels like to stumble over words like they were marbles strewn along the ground.
I bet I would have the same experience as him.
So why do I still want to **stand-up?
Jake
Written by
Jake
363
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems