You take your show to the streets. You let your performance art roam the alleyways and avenues (NOT the mall). You're an artist. Scratch that, you're the artist. Not confined to any particular form of expression, you settle down. You think you've found peace. Your world is calm and quiet. To remind yourself of who you are, you go back to marching to the beat of your own drum.
You miss a beat. You realize you're not the artist. You're the drum.
You're just the empty drum.
Rinsing echoes out of her mouth,