All the World's a Stage

All the world's a stage,
And we all play our roles.
Fifteen lines done fifteen times,
But not a one of them true.

The mask might seem familiar,
But you've never seen behind it.
All the faces you think you know
Compared to their masks dissimilar.

But we all know the music,
To this choreographed dance
The same spins, the same turns
Looking glorious in their harmony.

No one stumbles, save for one.
On Pointe she over rotated.
Her steps fumble, as she tries to catch up,
But now her mask's already cracked.

And given a thousand days, a thousand slaves
Could never put it back.
Sitting vulnerable, stage right
The music finally stops.

Everyone takes their bows,
And reaps their congratulations.
Yet all the stage and audience
Turn in silent expectation.

Unaired mutterings:
Is this more of the act?
Closely they observe her
As her imperfection glistens,

But now for selfish reasons
They all begin to clap.
Plight it seems was unscripted,
But it's better it was part of the act.

There's comfort in this pretending,
And asylum from the world as well.
But 2 million men, given infinity
Could never find reality.

All the world's a stage,
Unfortunately the act never ends.