Author Information
Broadecay
Ladies and gentlemen, the final curtain
I am taking my final bows.
You stand before me in awe, amazement
This creature, what talent he endows.
My hands outstretched before you;
You consider my pleading a tease
Though beneath me the trap door falters
You scoff at me down on my knees
Encore, encore, encore no more,
All the world’s a stage, no lie.
Though the exit signs are flashing,
My stage is meant to die.
I have housed my own inhibition, my illness;
They have all been branded beneath these bright lights.
Beauty shined into the eyes of the beholder
I shall go gently into the night.
Dying--no less a recreation than any
No less a birthright than the song and the dance.
It is freedom in its simplest form
The greatest overture to be given the chance.
The embodiment of immortality, not the soul
But the shameless mind that is never worn down;
The cruel spectator who hisses and boos,
Who builds my home beneath the ground.
Gentlemen, ladies, the stage has crumbled.
Another performance cast into the dark.
To have seen is to believe, but to have lived, yes,
Is to have never lived again. I have finally made my mark.
