You sing loudly along with the crowd and with the band. <br />You lose track of your voice and forget what you sound like. <br />You leave a little bit of who you are behind, <br />Mingled in the sweat and scent of beer. <br />Sometimes it just feels so damn good to be no one. <br />And everyone you hated and judged from afar becomes you, <br />And you them. <br />And you're no one, but you're everyone. <br />And the pushing and churning in the center of the floor is you. <br />It's your thoughts, your anger, your desire to belong. <br />You are the centrifuge that separates fate and free will. <br />You are an ill-fated, free-thinking, all-encompassing truth; <br />And you are fiction. <br />You are the obnoxious pre-teen, the jaded hipster, <br />The hot tween that doesn't actually know the band but makes good eye candy, <br />You are the side pit-er who maintains a safe perimeter, <br />You are the one who falls, <br />And you are the one who helps the fallen; <br />You are everything, and you are nothing. <br />At the end of the night you are wind that turns sweat <br />Into an icy coolant that sends chills down spines <br />But feels like a sacred blessing known only by you. <br />You are nothing but yourself, <br />And everyone else.<br /><br />Benjamin Feliciano<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-a-show/
