FairWriter

This fire of rebellion rests under my tough skin. I can't live in that supernatural bliss of sinless. I bare my teeth, but childhood Bible lessons stop the bite. I want to rage like a lion, but sing like a canary. My blood is liquid vengence with draining forgiveness. I can't give you a "pick up your mat and walk" sermon. I can only tell you I am powerless.

Emotions dance on my playbill. They appear on a stage of paper. Expectation rises and tickets are sold. Miss actress, present these sensations and dress them up. Color them to the tune of makeup. The audience waits for the curtain to open and the soul to perform. The masterpiece is given. Listen to the applause roar. As always the set is dismantled, just as it was constructed. The spotlight shines for the monologue and goes black at the closing. The auditorium is bare. And still I feel like my soul lies there, just as Romeo and Juliet and Julius Caesar.