Note:- Sincere apologies in advance for grammatical mistakes and many minor mistakes.

I.
He is a critter of some kind.
A bitter one I'd say.
Poor thing distracts itself.
Ashes lying in the ashtray

II.
The stage has reached the zenith of perfection.
There is no room for imperfection.
It is hard to gain roses to your performance.

III.
It is hard to gain roses to your perfomance.
All the word is a stage, had said Shakespeare.
But our actor is stuck in his own little sphere.
All the men and women are actors and actresses.
I want to say to the creator a true word of within.
He who acts on your stages never wanted to be one of your actors.
No you must not say that atleast he is not forced to suffers a fate worse than the others.
For he feels the blessing to be quite imposed.

IV.
Slippery sadness sliding down his cheeks.
Humid of the night it is, he says it as an excuse.
The actor detests to let the light reveal the cause of that wetness.
He hides his wretchedness.

V.
Far away he hears the resonate voice of hope.
There is dissonance in the music of his performance.
There is always a dull ache of agony.
He believes that he is certainly not good at tickling the ivories.
How will he ever gain a rose to his performance?

VI.
The stage is spangled tonight.
It has tangled each one in its circle.
Some are the audience, they care not for the actors' dignity.
For they are too sure to censure every action.
Then there are the actors lacking all the ingenuity they could possess.

VIII.
They all want to play the role.
Each one has got a goal.
You can see him tremble.
With fear in his heart, he stumbles.
He asks himself that how will he ever gain a rose to his performance?

IX.
My breath of each second is taken in by the stage .
Sometimes I feel like the actors.
But sometimes I become one from the audience.
The actor and I shall try till we succeed or either we will die trying.
To get a beautiful rose to our performance.
#strugglesforsuccess
#lifeandlife
#poem
#sadpoem
#writeco
#writcopoem
© byhistoryfreak