The echoes of chatter ring through the theater

Take a program; it’s a full house

Fans flutter and skirts bustle

Candles dim and curtains rustle


You never expected to be on stage

The orchestra begins; you dance

You twirl, spin, split and leap

A mere doll for diversions so cheap


Your tragedy has become their gossip

Your life nothing but rumors to share

Your pain is their sleazy entertainment

And you fear their grubby amusement


But until they move to the next scandal

Dance you must, even as your feet bleed

For to hide your face would be worse

At least infamy is a short-term curse



© Amy Sophiamehr




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