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.

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