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The emoter takes his bow,
Another successful eve,
Playing the torturous role,
For an audience of weeds.

Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!
The cry of accolade,
Ringing out in the night,
Survive another day.

The mask goes on, curtain up,
Birthing of Eos,
Thespianic ritual,
Begins just as thus.

What sort of fiend, animal,
Shall be chosen to portray,
The righteous ruse doth begins,
Dancing Death at bay.
Outside, the winds howl.
Inside, the seas boil.
Such is worries.

— The End —