A Place We Animals Like to Call Home

I feel like Im spilling all over the floor.
Each stomp leads to a flood of energy
The wind is pushing it's way through my curls
And these heels are wobbling as I press my weight and energy, into their skinny stilletto.
The stares are intimidating but are meant to be motivating
To boost my energy, my self esteem. 
They are meant to make me come alive.
But instead I feel paralyzed
On edge.
As though any wrong move could be my last
And my face will be shunned for years to come.
I'm on the spot but I can't smile to cover up my nerves.
I can't laugh.
I must endure and wear my mask.
My mask of attitude,
And lack of fear.
Fear that in the crowd could be the person that could change my life
Fear that if my step leads to a wobble
And a wobble to a stumble
I could lose a moment,
An opportunity
A chance.
But as I walk out on that slit of a runway we animals like to call home
I elevate my mind
And raise my head high.
They are here to see me and I am here to show off my ability to perform.
To create a mood, and entrance their eyes
With my grace.
My walk.
My presence.
I step and the rest is left up to fate.