The rabbit

Some days, i feel as if i am a rabbit in a hat. Most days i won’t understand what magic is. Few days am i excited to see the audience. There are no days i wish to be something else. I know nothing else but a cloud of judgement smudged by lights. My tender feet feel cloth but my mind wanders with every creak of a chair. Silence is my cue.

I am pulled for entertainment yet i don’t resist. I am in awe with such craftsmanship, as with the rest of this world, that my mind stitches a bold piece of flashed moments faster than the magicians slight of hand. I am now frustrated though my body has not yet caught up with my mind. This waiting period is the point of bliss. I succumb.

I am a rabbit in a magicians hat. It is not my job to have emotions, just to be. The audience watched one of themselves split into halves. Some days i do not want to be pulled out of the hat at all.