A rush surging through the nerves,
With a fanatical sense of insistence.
A humdrum beat of band, it serves,
For the repeated moves in a performance.
A circus in which you are the clown.
And for the whistles and applauds,
You are dancing faster.
The moves are not of your own,
They are assigned to you by the ringmaster.
With show after show,
You’re addicted to the stage,
The rewards and awards
Are your safest cage.
You’ve acquired a taste,
To The turning of the wheels
and the clanking of the shafts,
The clicking of the time,
And counting your dimes
To pay the rent for your existence.
You’re busy engaging the audience,
Even after they’re bored.
With nothing of your own to light up,
You’re left wailing and rotten to the core.
12-19-24