Tragic Comedy

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh,

ooh. Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh.

The ceiling cracks like ancient skin. A map of all the hurt I've held within.

Silence thick like frozen rain. Each breath a monologue in pain. I mouth my

lines to vacant space. No partner here, no saving grace. The script is

worn, the pages torn. This role I've played since I was born.

The chandelier above me swings. A ghost that dances then decays. The velvet seats

collect the dust. Like memories I used to trust. I try to laugh at every