Hope

in poetry •  7 years ago 

The audience awaited with baited breath
Blissfully unaware they were about to witness your second
Third
Forth
Death

Numb for a time
Now resembling Alice
Make the climb
The rabbit hole doesn't lead to a palace

The audience isn't laughing anymore
They grow weary of the charade
They've seen this story before
This madness homemade

Dulled eyes
Thicker skin
The storm has abated now
No need for the loony bin

Until next time I guess we'll see
Madness doesn't suit you
They'd rather see you be all you can be

Light step
Eggshells
Why won't tomorrow come?
They're still wondering
Will you be here come the morning sun?

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