What would the curtains say
when they watch us cry
as they fall?
What would their red velvet lips weep
or say
if they could?

What would the spotlights say
when they show us a world
that they’ll never know?
What would their colored irises see
or say
if they could?

And our credits.
Our credits.
Who would they go to?

God. The Stage.
The mother. The father.
The holy the damned the ones
who came before us and
the ones who designed us,
the ones who failed us
the ones who failed for us—

Who would they go to?