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This Play

It feels like a script

And we are the jesters

Blindly saying our lines

Standing where we are told to stand

Moving how we are told to move

When we are asked to jump

Most ask

‘How high?’

Few ask


There is no room for improvisation in this play

We are booed off stage

If we say our own lines

Our own thoughts

Our own words

Booed by the masses

Who are in the same play we are

I just want to jump off stage

And run by the crowd

Out through the doors

And into the black night

With the rain pouring down

I want to stand in the middle of the street

And scream


this is not my role.


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