The Drama and the Tragedy

My skin is 

Paper thin, but I 

Cry out to

Your platform!...

...It's hard to know

Where dice

Will fall...

...I haven't been

Informed...

Sinking in these

Rows of chairs...

...So frenzied 

By the sights.

Witness an act

In this playhouse,

Now, almost 

Every night.

So troubled by

The magnitude!...

...The grandeur has 

Impressed

Me to the point where 

I can't move...

...Embittered life,

The test...

Has seemed so distant 

From my mind

Since I've come 

Here to stall

The drama, and 

The tragedy,

That sneaks in 

Like a squall.

I'd rather breathe

Through fill-in lips,

An understudy

Slave...

That rests in rows

Of empty chairs,

Unless tonight's a

Rave...

...Then everyone will

Soon return,

And wear their make-

shift glee!...

My skin is thin,

But I'll mix in...

...I've hooked them 

To believe

That there is nothing 

Strange, or odd...

...I'm just another 

Cog.

The drama, and 

The tragedy 

Has settled in 

The fog...

...But is it settled?...

Are we clear...

...Or am I to assume

That there is any

Room to breathe

In this stifling tomb

Of entertainment,

And deceit?...

I'll be swept up 

If I don't beat

It out the exits,

Before red shroud

Has toppled down,

And made his proud

Insistence that we

Have been tricked...

My skin is paper thin...

...My wit

Sinks down into these 

Chairs...

...This is my rock...

My cross to bear....

...My drama, and 

My drain...

©

2017

Bunny Villaire