Ouroboros

The spotlight is dead,

Tickets expired,

Stage stripped of its clothes,

So why do you still put on an act?

The battle is won,

The trenches filled in,

The crows full with flesh,

So why do you still fight?

The fire is roaring,

The roof over our heads stands strong,

The walls are getting drunk on our laughter,

So why do you still look empty inside?

The table is covered in food,

A banquet for the ages,

Gold gilded plates stacked like Egyptian pyramids,

So why do you still say you are starved?

You remain an enigma,

Shifting and shuffling in your seat before me.

“No one really gets me,”

You say it like it’s a good thing.

Pulling at my strings is your idea of playtime,

Leaving me with a million questions turns you on,

You take your ecstasy by watching me spiral under your woeful gaze,

How have you not overdosed yet?

I get you,

I get you all too well.