The Show

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The Show

We are all sitting in a theatre,

Full of woven scarlet tapestries,

Which represents our veins,

And what runs through them.

We each have our own seat,

May we sit with one another . . .

To watch on full display

What life has to offer us.

We are vain

And we rudely interrupt

Our neighbors and the show,

And we move to another seat.

We each scream

For a different show,

And yell to the other to hush,

We are hypocrites.

We each scream

For a different presenter;

Be it silver screen?

Or live actors?

We are indecisive,

We can’t get along,

Not even to accompany

Melody and song

We all ignore the show,

And stand up to another,

To choke their necks

And out-do each other.

We are all boisterous

We can’t hide it,

We take barbarianism

And say we’re perfect.

We are unaware,

The show still goes on,

Since we cannot agree,

It cannot end.

We are destroyers and creators,

We glut in our “power”

We become ignorant

And forget God

We are stupid, lazy and slow,

Too apathetic now to watch the show,

But it goes on, we believe to see,

Our coarse rage and sympathy.

The theatre won’t burn,

No matter how many fires we set

The show must go on,

But we just forget.

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