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The Audition


A poem I wrote at an audition waiting for my name to be called.

Thin girls in tall shoes and tight dresses. Fit boys in tight shirts and coiffed tresses.

Headaches, missed meals and unpaid bills. Headaches, no callbacks and no fallback.

Headaches, overworked and little pay.

Headaches, overwhelmed, all just another day.

You hear your work is no good, your look is no good. Your agent is no good. Your reel is no good. Your life is no good. You are no good.

In a sea of people who look just like you, sound just like you, move just like you. You, only better than you.

Compromising situations lead to compromising decisions. Time is all you got and if you don't act smart, you won't even have that.

Living outside of your means and beneath your potential, with compromised integrity and ostracized identity What kind of dream is this?

Maybe being a big fish in a little pond don't sound so bad...


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