surveys the crowd
the only place she feels safe
the lights and the sound
her bodice it starts to chafe
imagines the crown
placed on her head
when they said
what knows the pageant
standing outside
trying to light a smoke
shivering hard
her jacket slung like a cloak
stung like a bee
she finds her words
before all the girls
are culled in herds
she needs words
what knows the pageant
the other 49 seem calm
(like the end of a broken record)
they’ve got the judges in their palm
(and hearts rendered out of cardboard)
she feels nothing in her chest
(but a brand of insipid feelings)
fakes a smile when she’s addressed
(but the lights have her reeling)
the announcer speaks
in all bass, no treble
his question a mess
but she looks so good in her dress
what knows the pageant
surveys the crowd
the only place she feels safe
the lights and the sound
her bodice it starts to chafe
imagines the crown
placed on her head
if only she remembered
what she said…
what knows the pageant
