i wish i could hate you
but how can i,
when i don't know who you are?
lately ive learned
with the passing of time
people are changing
like the sun and stars.
how could i expect you to be different?
you nor i are the same as we were
many days and nights ago.
but i was happy then
a meaningless crush so simple and pure;
you were smart and kind
innocent and so full of life
so i clung to the idea of what if
and i held onto to it like a vice.
it's been too long and tiring and hard
time goes on and i need to let you go
but part of me will always pray
some far off, distant day
when i meet you on the street
you won't come up to me and say
"nice to meet you, hello."

Broadway is a mime,
changing its persona all the time.
Spotlights casting shadows,
on the victims of a tragedy.
Heroes showing bravado,
saving the day.
A happy energetic song and dance,
like a bright sunbeam ray.
Blackout!
A scene change.
Where does she get the vocal range?
She keeps running perfectly,
using her complex tools.
The audience agrees.
(Applause is her fuel!)
She hits the high note,
the curtain shuts, everything
blackens like nighttime.
Act Two.
Three.
Can’t you see?
Broadway is a mime,
changing all the time.