The weight of the burning daylight grows heavy in the heart,
Heavy with the critical expectations of a bloodthirsty crowd of eyes,
Screaming for a resolution,
Any resolution,
Heavy with the demands of an angry, tyrannical deity,
Looking down in judgment from the distant, silent rafters,
Tracking my lines resounding with circles and redundancy,
Heavy with the directives I bury myself under,
Desperate decrees that can only be met under the cover of closed eyes,
In the Safety of the darkness encompassing my mind,
With but a single ray of light emerging from a flickering hope,
A spotlight which shines on my soulless character under raised and flowing velvet curtains,
Making me the tragic figure for which the morals of civilization will be secured or abandoned with my final act,
As the tide of lush velvet rolls in to meet the wooden shores,
Finally giving way to the gravity tugging on its frayed dress,
And the roars of the masses approval echo’s down the hallowed and vacant halls,
Coloring the silent rafters raucous,
For the lamb has been offered,
The fire stoked,
A wave of anticipation replaced with a wave of anxiety,
Crashing against the seawall of unbearably oppressive adulation,
In which my greatest fears forever reside.

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