Impersonation

The world is a stage and we are all actors

Donning masks of papier mache

The play is accomplishment

It's a sold out house, the people are watching

Those who watch and those who sleep

Their eyes are needles in the dark

I can meet their expectations

I can say the scripted lines

But who knows when the camera will stop

And the playbill will disappear

Will I ad-lib my way through Broadway

And smile and charm my way through life?

The movements are memorized, the steps syncing

I am at one with the artwork of movement

The people cheer and the critics rave

As I marionette my way across the gilded stage

They only see the painted smile and the dark mascara

And they never see the strings garrotting my wrists

But if they see the bracelets then I am the accused

"Why do this to yourself? How horrible!"

Ringed hands on heaving chests, aghast

But they do not realize that the strings choking my hands

Are twined around their own limbs

Jerking them along a mad improvisation of life

A facade and a farce

A stage where only the now exists

The strings, the wood underfoot, and the blinding lights of the stage.