This act-
It is tired.
Old.
And beyond times years.
You ask yourself the questions of despair-
Who am I?, What have i become?
Your questions go un-answered.
As you grasp whats left of reality into the palms of your hands.
Your mask has begun to crumble-
~But no.
For fear of exposure this mustn't happen.
You have reached a degree beyond measure.
Who you really were was of irrelevance, but is now of the utmost importance.
Time is running out.
Credibility is no longer accounted for-
You hate what you have become-
As do fellow victims.
Morals?
Gone from the beginning-
Alacrity?
Only can i reflect upon the past-
Demeaning Irreverence?
Always-
Though i question the task of being someone one day
And becoming what is known as this monster the next.
Once again silence-
This act is coming to a close.
Thank-you for coming, i hope you enjoyed it.
Please refrain from possible applause.
