Cadence.

You make your way on stage, each step heavier than the last. The nerves, so tangible, accented by the mild tremors of your cold, cold hands. You shake it off as you reach the microphone. Center stage: where you belong. The bright lights shine down as you scan the audience for a familiar face and a sense of calm washes over you as we make eye contact. An encouraging smile, camcorder in hand, the white of the screen highlighting my face in the sea of shadows. Meager applause follows your introduction, but you brave through it without so much as a second thought. The beat crescendos through the stale air and you fall into it and you're up and you're out and your caged words and rhymes escape. Layer upon layer of preconceived notions are stripped away until you're all that's left, if only for a brief moment. The song ends, but your time in the spotlight's only beginning; the applause is deafening.

I must confess. This brief acquaintance resulted in playing Russian Roulette with your playlists.

I don't want to intimidate, I want to inspire.