The Play

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The Play

The curtain opens its time for another show
The lights around us darken, were so anxious to know

The cast is the same, their looks all polished and bright
Their hearts are evil, their thoughts as dark as the night

Again we watch, we see the show once more
Expecting something different, but its just like the day before

Years pass and the show stays the same
The curtain comes down, but only pain remains

No reason to stop watching, most live for the thrill
Pain at the hands of another
this is what some will

We pay to watch, we give our last dime
The curtain opens, and we say just one more time

The room darkens and the cast walks away
Puppets in their hand, it’s the game they play

Oblivious to the strings the curtains fall to the floor
Still sitting in the audience just as the time before

Nothing changes except our seats and their clothes
Their ways are deception, but their pretty as a rose

They want us to watch, and they don’t care our expense
Their performance is important, though it makes no sense

We whistle with our mouths and clap with our hands,
Giving them power, it’s a part of their plan





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Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

kaysie’s Poems (5)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Dark Night 3
Eyes of Faith 0
Freedom from within 1
The Play 0
Watery Paint 1