Lights slowly dim
Energy is overbearing
As he speaks his modest hymn
This place where all man gathers
Like sheep; a herded flock
In here man is equal
To watch and later mock
On display he stands
In front of this peering crowd
Of one, twelve, or even a hundred
Within this talent shroud
He your enemy, friend, and lover
He is joy and he is pain
Becoming truth of every emotion
- the irony of his gain
It must be a gift
To wear each and every mask
But which is the real actor?
That, they will never ask
Troubled and internal
The hermit to always be
A mask for every occasion
The truth we'll never see
The wanted life of the actor
The stage he must obtain
This, his only release
Within makeup; without pain.
By Spencer Meyers
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