Playwright’s Plight

Spotlight’s on and they’re all on stage,
some are happy, some are enraged;
the clouds turns grey, the moon turns blue,
time flows like sand right out its cage.

Pour her a drink and she’ll smile very wide,
give her a ring and she’ll stand by your side;
whoever saw a puppet cry real tears?
For all the truth she knew, you never lied.

Spotlight’s off and everyone steps down,
a broken dream and a shattered crown,
the princess died when she lost her glory,
and the prince may as well be a clown.

When curtains fall, the story will be dead,
whoever cared about whatever it said?
A million tales may as well be none,
for is it a path – if none chose to be led?

— Katyaini