Poetry · Writing

act four scene two

it is the same act over and over

and i play the fool

a fiddle and a dress

i dance and dance

serving bread and wine

invisible to the eye

a fool by trait

lost by war;

and i play the fool

not the prince or a knight

we enter first and leave last

steadfast punchline

and laughs that shake the family line

blood never pours from my belly

just from my eyes

watching everything go up in flames

faster then i can pour the wine

and even though i play the fool

i can be brave at times

without a penny to my name

i found love

if money buys you love

then love is not enough

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