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What Price For Glory
On stage he struts in sequined costume,
a plume of feathers cocked high on head
A thespian poet of no account is ranting
though his troupe boasts of his skill and talent
But the look of a charlatan paints his face
when he's alone. Heartache he embraces
for he's aware that he's been misleading
himself and his bleeding heart followers,
the extras he casts to applaud his show.
"Bravo! Bravo!"
He paid them to sit in the audience shouting,
and boasting on him while standing in ovation.
They whistle for more, for his unearned encore.
He promises, "I'll support you all one day."
Foolish would-be, presume without a doubt
that he's a man of his word, but that's absurd
for actors such as he never share the limelight
once the spotlight shines on a narcissist's face.
What price does he pay for his moment of glory?
The highest toll is the loss of a soul.
Each bow he takes should give cause for worry
that one day the bird catcher will collect his due.
He'll barter with Satan for being haughtily boastful
for being puffed up with pride, and for his crime
the foolish one must relinquish his soul.
Copyright ©
Lin Lane
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