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Behind the Proscenium

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Sitting silently
Behind the curtains
Script dimly lit
Only by a flashing blue light.
Performers in their false clothes
Funnel into my wing.
From beyond the black curtain
A cacophony of noise starts.
The overture and the show begin.


With all queues called
WIth the curtain call done
The show is closed.
The techies in black
Flood out on stage
They begin to strike the set.
The stage goes black.




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