Life; The play

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The world is a stage and the play is called Life. Death directs it all sitting in a chair with his eyes trained on you. He asks you to perform the same old ballet routine

“I can’t do ballet, sir,” you say.

Then he’ll teach you how. He’s a strict teacher though. He’ll twist your bones and leave scars. Every wrong step is a sin. You’ll be forced to do the steps over and over until your feet bleed. The stage turns red with dry blood as you swing your leg around and balance on your toes trying to perfect it. When your lips run dry from thirst and your skeletal form collapses because of hunger you still take the last few steps. Death claps, you now know the whole routine. You won’t be able to perform it ever again. He moves on to his next puppet.

The world is a stage and the play is called Life. Death directs it all sitting in a chair with his eyes trained on you. He asks you to perform the same old ballet routine

“I can’t do ballet, sir,” you say.

Then he’ll teach you how. He’s a strict teacher though. He’ll twist your bones and leave scars. Every wrong step is a sin. You’ll be forced to do the steps over and over until your feet bleed. The stage turns red with dry blood as you swing your leg around and balance on your toes trying to perfect it. When your lips run dry from thirst and your skeletal form collapses because of hunger you still take the last few steps. Death claps, you now know the whole routine. You won’t be able to perform it ever again. He moves on to his next puppet.

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