I play strong. It is necessary. That's how my life went. In fact, with vulnerable waves. So vulnerable! My soul shrinks like a nut, And keeps bleeding...bleeding to death. From blows below the waist, And betrayals, As faith was killed in friendships. And it hurts, it hurts. And you wonder if you will come to life After so many betrayals, And you put on a mask---smiling, And in your heart---a storm! Devastated, disillusioned, dead...Bleeding... Drained of faith to the last drop. Your soul, like a wounded dog, Boiled in the corner--- Torn, naked and pathetic... You try to stand up after that. And you are looking for something to believe. Or in someone... You just don't know if you didn't choose another knife in the back, another wound, or another killer--- betrayal...
# Theatre Life The curtain rises on a world not ours, Where shadows dance in borrowed light, And actors wear the faces of our dreams— The king who never was, the lover lost, The beggar with a crown of thorns. We sit in darkness, watching. Our breath holds fast. The stage becomes a mirror, But shows us not ourselves— Shows us what we wish to be, What we fear we are, What we can never know. The words float up like birds Released from cages we cannot see. Each gesture is a prayer. Each silence, a confession. The painted backdrop promises A world more vivid than our own: Mountains that do not crumble, Love that does not wilt, An ending that arrives on schedule. Then—the final bow. The actors step out of their skins And become themselves again, Smaller somehow, More fragile, More real. The lights go out. We gather our coats, our tired bodies, Step back into the street, Back into our own unscripted lives, Still hungry for that other world, Still reaching for the curtain's edge, Hoping it will rise again tomorrow.
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