Saturday, November 30, 2019

Dedicated to Rayelan, who invented herself

No. 75 Empty Eyes and Haunted Dreams 

A sinecure of drama, her never ending play 
She hungered for a different life, to fill her empty days.
And her inner urgings pointed out the way. 
Every kind of pretense, used to make it pay.

For she was just a victim. She was innocent and sweet
She was just a heroine, who refused acceptance of defeat.
And she was little wifie, and always wrote the play
Because it was recycled from the drama yesterday.  

She fancied herself a princess, a duchess and a queen
She paid for every fancy with lies both large and mean.
Drama is the constant as she rakes in bits of gold.
She knows the Readers buy it, to hear her perils told

And always it was Rayelan at the center of the play 
She learned the art of drama and was always on display. 
She, the me who mattered, she the me in lights
She the only one with power fed on its delights. 

So, barking, it continues, and units, they are filled. 
And nothing every changes, and yet she loves the thrill.  
To con the all too trusting, too rake in others cash
Are the stuff of fantasy to Rayelan's aging ass.