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I, a tragedienne in an empty theatre

I attend the missing crowd to laughing at my face

The only happy scene in this personal tragedy

Is the epilogue of my cursed entity

When the nights turn to dark blue dreams

Then my laughs turn to anxious screams

Now my wounds are open, I am writing with my blood

Dreams of violent lust and love, covered now with gold

Now the nights are painted gold, in seas of hate I dive

My tragedy has not an end, acting this poem... in grief...