why are we all
actors on a stage
doing what we’re told to
born to do
die to do
die doing
what we’re trained to do
aim to do
following orders well written
and rewritten pages torn from tomes
truths and untruths all tightly bound
what makes people want to sell their soul
for nice things
a nice car
a big house
some nice shoes
what’s a poor person to do
while Beau Monde cruise
and say ” good luck Chio, I don’t really know what that means
and where I heard it is irrelevant but really who cares good-bye”
can’t do anything but get out of their way
then give ’em evil eyes
and say
“just wait til I make it…I swear”
through your fist at the sky and make a dare
you wont really know if anyone’s listening
but the only thing you know is listening
is thin silent air not even a breeze
just there
so if we’re just actors
I have another question
is there an audience
or are we practicing
with a few spectators
why their here well
they must be fans
or scouts and the like
all they really do is stare
crummy job that must be
I think I’m good right here
It’s my break the only one I get
and the silent air
suits me just fine
-Tyler Worthington
I like the casual voice of this. It’s valid and worth the read. Some errors to catch. I know we are all working for the core poem, and it’s there.