I spin and twirl and dance in the spotlight,
ignoring the surrounding dark stage.
I await a sound from the audience, maybe just one small sound.
It reminds me that I'm not alone but 'i hear nothing so I keep going,
stifling back yawns.
The spotlight which follows me is growing dusty and dim,
but I am a puppet on a string which must continue quietly.
My breath comes out in large puffs and my legs feel like jelly.
I still have to continue on waiting for what seems like nothing.
I slow with no hope of keeping up.
My strings have broken but have left me tired and weak.
So now all I can do is face forward on the stage,
stuck and ready for my last bow.
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