once upon a time

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The troubadour remains motionless, a single tear staining his makeup
The curtain slowly closing destroys his reason for living:,  the audience.
Suddenly the magic’s gone leaving only despair and reality

The warped boards only moments ago were his to command.
Countless days spent, dreading the ending.
Endless days, stretching into the final act,  obscurity

Glamour, mayhem, spent on stage, the troubadour alone is motionless.
Movement pointless, no audience to applaud,and caress his ego,
Each performance means movement, the dreaded end:, despair.

As the troubadour once more stares into the abyss of loneliness
Not for him life’s true meaning of love, joy, and companionship.
The troubadour alone always finds life's joys beyond reach.

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