Aren’t your exhausted
selling what you haven’t got?
Or just a bit of who you are,
but really no one gives a fuck?
You’re the money-maker,
the signage to the gift-shop.
Or maybe you’re the main attraction
who wonders when the time’s gonna be up.
All the fine details few can afford,
not sure should celebrate you or leave you alone.
Baby, it’s lonely in a crowd.
Every one needs something something, a lot.
How much are you willing to give to please?
Your time, your life, your peace, your god?
For the sake of a polaroid undeveloped?
Someday, somewhere when the lights come on,
will you be there or will it be someone else?
To an actor.
Published
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