A Scripted-Kind of Life...
A Scripted-Kind of Life...
An Interview with the Tearless Girl
And so I ask the Tearless girl, what makes love tick,
what makes it grow? As clay to shape, what holds its mold?
what is it, I wonder, what makes love just... sick?
“ I believe it’s the Heavens” she said, “ the world is a spectacle, it’s a show, the Heavens watch in awe. And us? We’re the actors in a play. The script plans out our future, and our birth is the stage.”
“But what about freewill? My Tearless dear, what’s the point of life if all we do is read a script, like mindless drones, like a 9 to 5.
What do you tell your children's’ children about a scripted-life?
“ Ah, youth is... as I practice for old age. But death... death is a breeze. It’s the only skill you’ll learn with ease.
Tell’em a song... for as the show must goes on, you Will descent and it will all make sense, and then You will sing...”
TEARLESS GIRL
(Shouts)
We love our audience.
An Interview with the Tearless Girl
And so I ask the Tearless girl, what makes love tick,
what makes it grow? As clay to shape, what holds its mold?
what is it, I wonder, what makes love just... sick?
“ I believe it’s the Heavens” she said, “ the world is a spectacle, it’s a show, the Heavens watch in awe. And us? We’re the actors in a play. The script plans out our future, and our birth is the stage.”
“But what about freewill? My Tearless dear, what’s the point of life if all we do is read a script, like mindless drones, like a 9 to 5.
What do you tell your children's’ children about a scripted-life?
“ Ah, youth is... as I practice for old age. But death... death is a breeze. It’s the only skill you’ll learn with ease.
Tell’em a song... for as the show must goes on, you Will descent and it will all make sense, and then You will sing...”
TEARLESS GIRL
(Shouts)
We love our audience.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.