Friday, 17 February 2012

The Actor.

The sunlight played its part
When the wind blew the curtain
And threw light on the lie
Sitting pretty on the high chair
Of immorality and distrust
Smiling with a halo shining red
Disguised in the semblance of an angel
With a frippery soul for existence
Which knows no heart or its viand
Living in a world balanced on a pin
Playing an execrable role innocently
With the prowess of an actor on stage,
Like the rest of us.
In the same plot with different scripts.

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