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He showed me that all the world's a stage
a constant manipulation of rehearsed lines
and babbled manuscripts.

he directs me.

I put on makeup, carefully
erasing wrinkles and worry lines
creases from time.
take a shot of liquor lubricant for frazzled nerves and 
anxious butterflies still in their cocoons,
buzzing to a wind that cannot hold them.

shouting voices heard to an empty theater while
crickets form an electric hum as the spotlight
casts its vigilance upon me. 
shadows dance on walls
capturing moments past. 
I hear the credits rolling already in my mind;
who stars the show-
who plays the sidekick,
the annoying plot uncovered as the antagonist
wins in the end. 

Act Two, Scene Three

enter stage right
exit stage left.
he creates a scene.
tells me that he loves me.
i invoke the numb set of emotions
only this character can give half-heartily
cry a little for the crowd,
see that its all in vain
the crimson curtain closes,
its golden tassels swaying in the air-
a single red rose is thrown
and applause is silent. 


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