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.
