We are a broken playhouse, crumbling

from within. Directing broken people

lost now in a solitary game of

characters. Playing dirty in sinful

backstage shadows, seeing only through their

turned blind eye. Constituting decisions

for susceptible masses, based upon

privy motives. But every arena


welcomes the persuasive. A podium

primed for the self-important located

centre stage. Illuminated in stark

fluorescent lighting, drawing the eye line

of the oblivious. Each character

relishing in the limelight with obscure

staging demanding attention even

from the indifferent. Remaining out of


sight until an entrance is required.

Villains masked as heroes bow, clap and dance

beneath the critical spotlight. Each stooge

fighting for attention, acting the fool

in a smartly dressed suit. Performing like

puppets on a string, gaining favour for

their characters cause. Fabricating lies

and shifting blame onto other members


of the cast. The spectators listen to

the opaque dialogue, many with half

open ears but dazed by the spectacle

minds are caught. Compelled into being pawns

in the bigger game. Forever servants

to the biased dramatics presented

before them. Always fixated onto

the failures of the opposed, seeing no


fault in their own. Unscripted plots become

chaotic with no clever outcome. Fate

is left in the hands of those blind to sense

and lacking knowledge. Uneducated

decisions caused by confusion, result

in madness ensuing irrational

fear. Smoothly nothing runs when sane and

truthful communication dissolves but


it all ends the same. In the climax of

tragedy secrets are exposed, shattered

in a theatrical charade. If all

goes wrong and the lights fail, the curtains

will swiftly close hiding the covered truth.

Left in the dark the audience realise

that cosmetics can never thoroughly

conceal the division that lies within.

 


 

So I wrote another poem. Another lengthy theatrical metaphor to be exact.

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