"All the world 's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts" - (Shakespeare, from the play As You Like It Act II, Scene VII).
The world, a stage
Silk scenes
Painted trees
Falsehood spills,
Cascades from the masked man
His face transforming
His character changing
Yet again.
The state of this world
Unknown
Should silken forests
Be ripped from the set
Whilst cardboard mountains
Fall and crumble to dust
The curtain falls
Lights dimming
The show, the world
Crashes to an end.
Shall Darkness
Whirl
Blow
Corpses
Belonging to the past away
Taking over the barren stage?
Or will
A new world, a new play, a new setting begin?
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Poetry, etc.
Welcome to Poetry, etc., where, as the title implies, I have written some poetry. I hope you enjoy it, or at the very least don't feel the need to spork your eyes out after reading it. And by the way, I do take requests!
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VERY nice.
P.S. CALL ME!! >> <<