To be or not to be...

There is constantly
A play going on in my head
Every dramatic pause
Or heart felt sigh
Has been scripted and played out
On the round in my mind.
I try to get the best reaction
And plan everything meticulously.
So is it a surprise
That I would go this far?
I'm tired of second guessing myself
Of feeling like nothing is spontaneous.
That all of this is for your benefit.
I want to live my life
And not rip out my bleeding heart
For your amusement.
I don't want to be an actor
Where I wait for a morsel of applause.
I'm tired of being wrenched around
By every sentimental song
Or piece of literature
Yet I have to go out with a bang.
There will be no encore
And once I leave this stage,
it will be over.
I will crawl out of this skin
And leave the shell for you perusal.
I can't be this person anymore,
I need to end this charade to move on.
But would you just look at my bloodless body
And shake your head,
Knowing it would end like this?
Would my final bow
Just be the end of this play
And leave time for another.
I can't be the puppet I've been,
The script as been written,
The actors cast,
And all that's left,
Is to catch the florescent roses
Being cast on the polished wood
Masked under the dirt that is thrown.