This Magic, This Act.

Your Hollywood makeover self indulgent lectures
cause watery rims,
running mascara,
and thudding temples
You asked me if I understood
and I nodded twice,
once yes,
and once no
You looked past my contradictions,
never explaining the lastest catch phrase
Your words aren't the bait,
they're the trigger
and your audiences are blind folded
in blood red chairs
You hide your sins so well,
I almost thought you an angel
But I peeked
Does it kill you to know I never enjoyed your overdone acting?
I never believed you,
but you believed me

All the tricks you've pulled,
like yarn weaving around you
in a small room,
has trapped you in the middle
of the other side
How's it feel sitting in that chair
without use of your eyes?
The stage smells like rust and bleach
and the seat covers rip and wear
A simple whisper is caught on your
tuned in ears

"Are you watching closely?"