by Esther Animalu, contributing reporter
A kaleidoscope of lights, dangles above the anchor desk.
As the teleprompter reaches out and pulls my face, my eyes are reeled in.
The countdown unwinds, 5… 4… 3…
The clashing of words, that tried to twist my fate, spew out
discouragement, despair, disgust, dismay.
Eluding the cues that I will not prevail.
Ignited boots on the ground, defending the homefront.
My weapon of choice?
Writing.
Writing, The Lead.
The lead that I will one day report.
The lead that will launch my career.
The lead that will cause the enemies to wave their white flags…
One day, yes one day, your vile words will morph into flames.
That will tug at your neck, but caress my name.
I’ll rise above all the hate and woe, and shed all the burdens.
BOOM! As the shots fire, the smoke clears.
Revealing my new identity, the touch of victory, the strength of ingenuity.
The folks that gain your trust, but then break it as they walk,
Will show their true colors, that unravel, untangle and unveil their masks.
I heard the competition, reloading their artillery at the warfront.
So I stood tall like a soldier, sharpening my pencil…
Despite the fact, that somehow, all the adversities, traced back to my two hands.
I’ll travel on, with nothing but a shadow. Forced to stand on my own feet, to accomplish my
Hidden Dream.
We ride the tanks with our knees pulled in.
People should see how we’re living,
I shut my eyes to the song that plays
Sometimes this has a hot, sweet taste.
It launches the bullet of hope into a whole new world.
Fantasizing about the futuristic glory days.
And when that pivotal moment arises, CNN will be in lights.
I’ll lock the attention of over 1.1 million viewers.
I’ll turn the smile on. And the story’s brand-new. It’ll feel as if,
A switch was flipped, a pill tipped back, a moon eclipse.
And I can tell you that when the lights come on, I’ll be ready for this.
It’s in my bloodstream.
A collision of atoms that happens before your eyes.
Up 38% in ratings, reporters are ducking below the crossfire.
The explosions on TV,
And all the troops with heads inside a dream
Keeps the nostalgia growing, it keeps us believing.
Because victory, is contagious.
In a flash forward, deep into the future,
The countdown resumes, 2…1..
And we’re LIVE.
