The curtains that protect my soul like a noose around my neck

They are made of angel wings and devil horns

Good and bad can shine through the tears and cracks

Flickering, Brightening, and dimming 

 

H-Y-P-O-C-R-I-T-E; hypocrite

Hippo in the way my inhibitions fatten me up

Like the hungry boy with no self-control eating cyanide cake on his birthday

My courage resembling a critter with the desire to live bigger than its own body mass

It flees away from the person who calls it vermin

 

R-E-J-E-C-T-I-O-N; Rejection

Curtains drop, it’s opening night

One star or five stars, everyone’s a critic

Rejected from those who bought tickets that were less than the price of free

Shunned from the thespians on stage that held knives against my throat

And let acidic betrayal spill from my throat; burning themselves in the process

 

Curtains are dense with Shame too heavy to move and inch

Me, Myself, and I exposed

Like arteries laid bare in open heart surgery

My eyes look into the blooming daffodil eyes of the audience

They are familiar in every sense of Déjà vu

 

The claps of the audience ring in my ears like the sound a pin dropping alone in the dark

My own claps mirror them

Or are they mirroring me?

ME is what I see

Theater of the house of mirrors

I gaze into the eyes of my own reflection

Reflect on my own performance

The shame of the curtains are dissolved into the fleeting breeze

Everyone’s a critic; that includes me

The only judgment that matters

 IS. MY. OWN.