Rêverie | Vol. 6 Issue 11
The Monthly Muse
The Show by Poe E. T. The Night by P. Arty
A many shards of glass surround me, Showing the reflections in a twist No daybreak shall show my true form, my reflections and my secrets.
My face is as broken and shoveled, As the shards of glass. The hands of the clock spin, Time and time again, While the shards of glass complete the puzzle.
The waves recede and are gone. The show must go on.
Still a beastly reflection, If only the cruel and lovely mirror on the wall, could show the the colors and spirits, Alas! I dream on and on until the wave of applause hits me.
The waves recede and are gone. The show must go on.
I stand up, ready to leave and, Enter the backstage, The makeup and hair, Clothed and prepped, The show must go on.
I wake up to the sounds of the eternal gears around me. Men talk, empty thoughts. The birds chirp outside.
No matter, here comes the Night.
I wipe the oil with my sleeve.“ Tomorrow,” I lie,“ I shall fly.” Leaves rustle out the door.
No matter, here comes the Night.
The bottle rolls across the floor.“ The manager will not be happy, I think.” I race through the street to the Factory. Dogs bark as they watch me run. No matter, here comes the Night. The floor echoes as I drop the wrench. Mean glares. Carts rumble, I stumble. The sun glistens through the trees.
No matter, here comes the Night.
Who is this what a lovely stranger blood in my bed? My vision is I stand up and put on my coat. The sky is so blue. No matter, here comes the blurry
Night is so alive. Bright lights and loud music and pretty girls and stale beer. The moon shines above. No matter, here comes the LET THE NIGHT REIGN.
24