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Someday I will be
As brave as a metaphor.
Sleeping in a hotel,
Away from home
The mattress seems cold and hard,
Like a prison floor
The body next to mine is warm,
Raising so slightly with her
Shallow morning breaths
How we got here,
I don’t remember
But the emptied bottle of
Grey Goose by the bed
Seems to be a clue
It even explains the aching,
A dull pain behind my eye
I roll closer to the stranger
Next to me, draping an arm
Over her soft skin
As if hoping to absorb,
The name of this beauty
Her hair, like straw,
A golden brown, the faint
Scent of smoke
From the night before
Soft lips press to mine
“Good morning”, she says,
Her voice seeming angelic
“Hey”, I reply,
And we share a smile,
After we rise
“Last night”, the words
Fumbling from my mouth
Before I could even finish,
“Don’t worry about it”,
The door shutting behind her,
She left me with nothing,
But I, was in love
Existence is a battle,
you fight or you die.
Existence is conquering,
making others serve you.
Whether it's people
or it's things,
earth must be bent,
bent to your will,
just to survive.
Water is stolen,
Creatures are killed.
All for a simple,
a fleeting,
a miserable
existence.

So that is existence,
but it is not life.

Life is a peace,
built in others.
Life is surrender,
a turning in.
Whether it's people
or it's things,
life is giving,
providing for others.
Water is lent.
Creatures lay down.
All for another,
all a sacrifice,
all for love.

For love is life.
Here I lie
in this cramped fashion.
My feet are
contorting
and
twisting
to fit in
this bed.
My arm dangles from
the side,
my back screams
and
protests
these
pains
and
these
stresses.
All of this
sensation races
through
my body,
leaving little
trails of
spasms, cramps,
tiny needle ******.
Here I lay
in this wonderful fashion,
forever thankful.
Because this small bed
leaves no room for
the phantom feelings
of your body on mine.
The crimson curtain climbs.
Everyone stares.
Expectations shatter the silence.
Pressure mounts.
I know what I must do.
I have a script.
It must be followed.
It is what they want.
It is what I must do.
I crave tears,
But I must wear a smile.
It is written in the script.
Smile, it pleads –
Commands.
The brown skirt, the director dictates.
That’s what he wants.
I am expected to follow.
I like the yellow one better.
But I’ll pretend otherwise.
I hope they don’t notice my moment of
Weakness.
Escaping the role-
Impossible feat.
Risky –
Too risky.
Shunned –
The obvious outcome.
So here I’ll stand frozen:
My bones aching for growth,
Tentacles of self irking for change,
Blood boiling for new vision.
My fears show my consequences,
The consequences outweigh the rewards.
I am an actor on a stage
Wanting so much more for myself
But stuck on this dusty wood floor
Waiting for my curtain to go down.
The title is an allusion to Shakespeare's *As You Like It* where Jacques utters the famous phrase: "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players"
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