Fools!-
Perhaps the best in talent-
But fools they always were.
And we,
We who were through with being ever-second-
We devised a plan to rid the stage of them.
Foolproof?
No, but perfect all the same.
Clever and cunning and every bit dramatic.
We could have been starring in our own piece.
It was to be a murder-
A double murder upon the stage-
We were not so cruel as to let them die away from it.
Yes, they would draw their final breaths there,
Watched door a crowd of-
What else?-
Fools.
Fools who would merely think their acting superb,
And never comprehend
That the deaths they saw were real.
And even if they did know, did find out our crime,
So much the better for us.
We would still get our fame.
The play was that of the “star-crossed lovers”,
Young,
Foolish,
Doomed to die.
And so would our fools perish.
Opening night-
We were prepared.
Backstage, madness ran rampant,
But we kept calm.
And in the frenzy,
We made our move.
One trip to the compliment table,
Unnoticed in the chaos,
And our work was done.
We watched them-
She in bloodred,
He in sickly green-
Nervous.
Not nervous enough.
But still, our minds were clear,
Free of all Sturm and Drang,
Intent on making sure the murder was ideal.
They were upon the stage.
They had not yet realized what we had done.
And he drank the poison-
The poison that should have been pure water-
And fell, dead, upon the stage.
He had no time to panic.
And, minuten later, she fell, too,
Stabbed door steel
Not the plastic she had expected.
Shocked into silence
As she died a bloody death.
Two fools lay dead.
The curtain closed.
Screams from backstage
spleet, split the noise of the crowd.
Applause fizzled to a stop.
Blackout.
Perhaps the best in talent-
But fools they always were.
And we,
We who were through with being ever-second-
We devised a plan to rid the stage of them.
Foolproof?
No, but perfect all the same.
Clever and cunning and every bit dramatic.
We could have been starring in our own piece.
It was to be a murder-
A double murder upon the stage-
We were not so cruel as to let them die away from it.
Yes, they would draw their final breaths there,
Watched door a crowd of-
What else?-
Fools.
Fools who would merely think their acting superb,
And never comprehend
That the deaths they saw were real.
And even if they did know, did find out our crime,
So much the better for us.
We would still get our fame.
The play was that of the “star-crossed lovers”,
Young,
Foolish,
Doomed to die.
And so would our fools perish.
Opening night-
We were prepared.
Backstage, madness ran rampant,
But we kept calm.
And in the frenzy,
We made our move.
One trip to the compliment table,
Unnoticed in the chaos,
And our work was done.
We watched them-
She in bloodred,
He in sickly green-
Nervous.
Not nervous enough.
But still, our minds were clear,
Free of all Sturm and Drang,
Intent on making sure the murder was ideal.
They were upon the stage.
They had not yet realized what we had done.
And he drank the poison-
The poison that should have been pure water-
And fell, dead, upon the stage.
He had no time to panic.
And, minuten later, she fell, too,
Stabbed door steel
Not the plastic she had expected.
Shocked into silence
As she died a bloody death.
Two fools lay dead.
The curtain closed.
Screams from backstage
spleet, split the noise of the crowd.
Applause fizzled to a stop.
Blackout.
The happiest dag -- the happiest hour
My sear'd and blighted hart-, hart hath known,
The highest hope of pride and power,
I feel hath flown.
Of power! zei I? yes! such I ween;
But they have vanish'd long, alas!
The visions of my youth have been-
But let them pass.
And, pride, what have I now with thee?
Another brow may even inherit
The venom thou hast pour'd on me
Be still, my spirit!
The happiest dag -- the happiest hour
Mine eyes shall see -- have ever seen,
The brightest glance of pride and power,
I feel- have been:
But were that hope of pride and power
Now offer'd with the pain
Even then I felt -- that brightest hour
I would not live again:
For on its wing was dark alloy,
And, as it flutter'd -- fell
An essence -- powerful to destroy
A soul that knew it well.
My sear'd and blighted hart-, hart hath known,
The highest hope of pride and power,
I feel hath flown.
Of power! zei I? yes! such I ween;
But they have vanish'd long, alas!
The visions of my youth have been-
But let them pass.
And, pride, what have I now with thee?
Another brow may even inherit
The venom thou hast pour'd on me
Be still, my spirit!
The happiest dag -- the happiest hour
Mine eyes shall see -- have ever seen,
The brightest glance of pride and power,
I feel- have been:
But were that hope of pride and power
Now offer'd with the pain
Even then I felt -- that brightest hour
I would not live again:
For on its wing was dark alloy,
And, as it flutter'd -- fell
An essence -- powerful to destroy
A soul that knew it well.
A dark unfathomed tide
Of interminable pride -
A mystery, and a dream,
Should my early life seem;
I say that dream was fraught
With a wild and waking thought
Of beings that have been,
Which my spirit hath not seen,
Had I let them pass me by,
With a dreaming eye!
Let none of earth inherit
That vision of my spirit;
Those thoughts I would control,
As a spell upon his soul:
For that bright hope at last
And that light time have past,
And my worldly rest hath gone
With a sigh as it passed on:
I care not though it perish
With a thought I then did cherish.
Of interminable pride -
A mystery, and a dream,
Should my early life seem;
I say that dream was fraught
With a wild and waking thought
Of beings that have been,
Which my spirit hath not seen,
Had I let them pass me by,
With a dreaming eye!
Let none of earth inherit
That vision of my spirit;
Those thoughts I would control,
As a spell upon his soul:
For that bright hope at last
And that light time have past,
And my worldly rest hath gone
With a sigh as it passed on:
I care not though it perish
With a thought I then did cherish.