J. A. Napper

Friends come and go,

 melting away as quickly

as a blanket of cold snow—

leaving a sloppy, wet trail

of dEsTrUcTiOn with no gains to show…

The show…

What is this show?

Am I a vagabond

sTuCk with no place to go?

Do my thoughts count?

Do meager actions help me grow?

I’m a character in a Shakespearean show— 

The show…

What must I show?

The curtains collapse and close

on this character of mine.

Some will say, “Oh, how he rose

to the top with splendor and shine;

but life bUrieD him under sorrows.”

Maybe they’re right, I suppose—

But the show… 

The show must go on.

I act like a clown

as I sMeAr a smile across my face

to hide the pain and a frown  

caused by this horrid place.

My children cannot see

my tOrMeNtEd soul.

They need to be free

from life’s terrible toll.

I’ll shield them from life’s arrows

as long as I can stand.

They’ll soon battle their Pharaohs 

on life’s sinking sand. 

I know they’ll be strong

and win a valiant victory,

They’ll sing their song

as I enjoy my reverie. 

The show must go on

for my children’s sake.

I’ll soon pass my baton—

for the world is theirs to take.