I stand on stage with my arms spread wide
And I soak in the hoots and hollers of the crowd
As they morph into one rolling tide.
Yes, they’re all here for me, constructed into a cloud.
The cheers go on and on
And flowers fill the stage.
Like a picture an artist has drawn
Forming a blooming floral rib cage

I close my eyes to bathe in the commotion
But it soon drowns out.
I stand and question my notion
And then begin to doubt.

I open my eyes
Afraid of what I may see
I hear no shouts, no cries
I see not one staring back at me.
Darkness is all I discover.
No person, nor petal
I can uncover.
I do not perceive beyond the darkness around me.

I reach out my hand
To find my place of standing
But I am no longer in wonderland
I, finally understanding.

Incased in wood
I attempt feel around me.
Stand if I could
But standing I do not foresee.
My limbs are immobile
Strapped to the wooden cell
The wood like a dull file.
Stuck in here, I dwell.

As my senses refocus
I soon realize the commotion is not that of delight
But only the cries of loved ones,
Full of sorrows and contrite.
The flowers were still flowers
But not full of cheer;
They, composed of cowers,
Full of fear.

I hear the rain of dirt
Pouring on my deathbed
But I cannot exert
As my body feels of lead.

Here I lay
Six feet under.
Incased in wooden dismay
My mind flowing with wonder.

My dayview was a masterpiece
But it is the end for me
The curtains now closing to make peace
But at least I stole the show

My life is soon done
My light no longer glow.
No goodbyes to a loved one
But at least I stole the show.