Death In The Theater

(The man dove into another description…

To the blank sheet – (as always) his life, he gave;

With a feeling the page would become his grave,

Still his hand traced another depiction.)

Starting a new page, revealing a fresh blank stage;

This is where we start the show, under a fluorescent glow.

Each letter plays its part, as we raise the curtains and start:

The setting is a place called New York City

(The time - the director is intentionally forgetting),

As a soul drifts, among the human race –

Inside his mind, he is feeling pretty sh*tty.

He is consumed by this state of emotion…

His tone emanates with the sadness which escalates,

The cause and reason for this is not the gloomy season.

It`s due to the time which has been lost,

As mortals are moments are too few;

And the past is something we can`t mime,

So each passing second carries a heavy cost.

Like rhymes in a bard`s sad lonely song…

Which are slowly fading from everyone`s sight…

Time can`t be written again, no matter how powerful the pen.

His thought is focused on the prior – the past,

To all the dreams – the prey he never caught.

Failed accomplishments, consume his cheer, like locust;

Lost opportunities, make him shiver, like a sudden icy blast.

His ponderings are unfinished – a sudden interjection -

As the audience watches but the ending is incomplete,

Yet - with a sense of puzzling confusion - they are met.

To the shock of their viewing perception;

From the ceiling the curtains begin to retreat,

The play was perplexing, and the curtains - are set.

Composed By: Andrew Drucker