Curtain Close

I look on, reciting lines, reacting, responding, the lights are dim, the stage is cold. I dance across the scene, choreographed to my solitude, hurt, tired, done, but I never stop. Tears roll, screams echo, but I never stop. I almost collapse, I can't go on, but I never stop. I'm dead, my body rotting, but I never stop. I look to my audience, my muse, my purpose, I can't deny them, I have to please them, Regardless of consequence, the show must go on. I have been reduced to a corpse that has been revived, revived for entertainment, for their amusement and amazement, I can't refuse, I can't disobey, I am a slave to the arts. I can still hear her, although I left her behind, I can hear her, sobbing, pleading, begging me to stay. Begging me to stay with her, to leave the cult in which I am trapped I can still hear her, haunting me, "The theatre is dark, the seats empty, the stage silent- so why are you still acting...?"