​He played the part well, 

Well,  better than most,

Never faltered or altered, 

In himself so engrossed. 

But when the curtain comes down, 

And he’s there on his own, 

His bodies breaking and shaking, 

When he’s left all alone.

He can’t stop the thoughts, 

Feels he’s down on his luck, 

Trigger,  bullet,  he’ll pull it, 

And he won’t give a fuck.

Because his time on the stage, 

His moments of limelight, 

Are shattering and clattering, 

Feels none of it’s going right. 

The way that he dreamed it, 

Wasn’t for a second like this,

He fumbles,  not humble, 

Drunk and covered in piss. 

Kevin Brown © 31.07.2016