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The Actor
The actor paints on his mask
Again for the everyday audience.
His stage is built upon the days
That meander by as his ficticious
Play is preformed flawlessly.
Each cumbersome act regretfully
Repeated until reality is fizzled
Out by the constant curtain calls.
His story always differently the
Same and his props so tedious
In their design.
But the reviews are unanimous
Amongst the eyes that stare
And buy into the lovable bullshit.
Hazza! Hazza!
The cry like some vultures
Feeding on his every performance.
Until his ability to deviate
From his character becomes
Lost in the cheers of fandom.
No one will talk to the flesh
Underneath that wishes to be heard.
He is but a puppet dangled for the masses.
