The magician liked to think

That he held the power

As he stood on the stage

To sprinkle haze

Over his audience

Casting a spell

Mesmerizing them with his tricks

Certainly credited to him

For all the hard work he paid

To get there in the first place

It was no child's play

To act all mighty and dainty

While he twirled the wand between his fingers

As surfs of awe pooled in his spectator's eyes

Conferring him with a pleasure he had no ownership to

This magician plucking flowers from thin air

Pulling rabbits from hats

Bending his hardcore wand into an arch;

It was no child's play

Those behind the curtains

Had seen all this a bazillion times

Immune to all his ways to gain popularity

Yawning with boredom

Licking their lips

With sleep pooling in their eyes

They wished they could feign the same

When he came every night to the house

Drunk out of his mind

As he reproached them

For all the reproach

He had to take

This cycle of criticism

That continues on and off

That no magician's magic wand

Can ever snuff out.

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©VioletEden