Written for my 7th grade English classes unit on poetry.
Poem about my experiences preforming double duty, a member of the cast AND the makeup artist. For some odd reason, offering to help someone with their makeup can make them incredibly hostile! :)
It's an hour till the first show,
and everyone's running about like little ants.
"Where is it?!"
come together to form an anxious chorus.
I sit in the dressing rooms downstairs,
people ignoring my futile attempts at my job.
I had arrived hours ago,
dressed and done up already,
anticipating the hordes of actors that had greeted me at my last show.
I sat amid the buzz of excitement around me,
walking around occasionally walking around to avoid yet another bronzer calamity.
At rare intervals I am stopped,
someone asking for assistance,
but only if they absolutely cannot do it themselves.
Looking around I cringe at the methods of some in the room,
and try to speak to a few.
When I ask if I can help them I am met with hostility,
an emotion that should be familiar to someone with a job like mine,
still it stings,
so I walk off as to not create a scene.
20 minutes till showtime has girls and boys alike running up to me,
almost in tears,
because they're makeup is messed up!
I sigh deeply but help anyhow,
because despite it all,
it will always be fun.