my mind’s been a stage

since i was a child

and oxymoron, really

i was known for being mild

too scared to say a word

too shy to speak my mind

i thought i’d never escape

but the theatre was kind

took me in and loved me

gave me what i needed most

a home and a family

accomplishments to boast

but these were the days of youth

yet still as i’ve grown old

my head has kept it’s stage

covered in iron and gold

my thoughts still they dance there

perform elaborate plays

even recite my poetry

on some of the better days

there’s a hundred seats in the audience

one for each version of me

each character i’ve played

each person i’ve pretended to be

when i die i’ll watch

my life unfold on stage

the actor will give a kiss

from her decorated cage

she’ll show me how i felt

dressed up in my memories

how little i remember

of all of these supposed revelries

because shakespeare was right

all my mind’s a stage

and my thoughts merely players

sent to help me in my old age

as my hairs grow a little greyer

but i can’t remember now

the sight of cracking dawn

and with a closing bow

my final thought

was gone.