Standing in rows we took turns to bow,
Pleased to perform for the eager crowd,
Little did we know in our gallantry glow,
The clap would weaken when it should have been loud.

On the first morning of each new show,
Rising to meet myself,
Who is that they would ask? Answering, I don't know,
They must have plucked her from the shelf.

When did the features once unique
Start to resemble the masses,
"If I was me I wouldn't look so bleak",
I think as a pencil in lashes.

Covering any evidence if days before,
Lines carefully smothered in mud,
It would be sacrilege to reveal the core,
Masking tears, fearing the onset of a flood.

Strong coffee aromas greet a powdered nose,
Another day lost in the battle.
The curtain are pulled on empty rows,
Only greeted backstage with a cackle.

A blank page for newer characters is unveiled.
No paper to sign, just a pat on the back,
"Be in touch" do those words mean I failed?
No wonder players starts to crack.

All the while I am the sole witness,
The observer willing to cheer,
Each time you thought only of you,
My applause erased any fear.

Yet I being one of many know of others seemingly weak,
The actors in greater society, that is what makes us unique.