The world is like an audience

Our lives are like a stage

Each move we make is on display

Like actors in a school play

Some of us are scarecrows or maybe even trees

Not putting on a scene makes life go by with ease

The little parts we play are like the gears in a clock

Although we are rarely seen,

without us, the clock would stop

But those who are the lion or damsel in distress

May find their lives wide open, much to their own duress

Their parts are much larger and for that they may hold a grudge

For they are the hands of the clock,

and from that role, they shall never budge

Others may hide altogether like a gopher in his hole

But often their lives feel empty for they don’t have a role

I guess it’s all perspective and everyone plays a part

In the end, it all comes together like a beautiful piece of art