A Heavy Act

Where eyes are abundant and free to roam,
She cloaks herself under a mountain of layers.

Out of breath and gasping for air,
she carries a leaden veil too heavy for happiness to bear.

But blitheness is what they paid to see,
So when the curtains roll back,
She stands at center
Buried beneath a costume and consumed by a mask.

She knows exactly what they expect,
And she delivers.

“What a spectacle!” they exclaim,
“How spectacular!” they think.

When really,
All it is,

is

an

act.

xSZHx

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