What is in a play, but that which is human?
I pay those for words they did not reate,
dark hours toiling with little light, lost to life
yet so involved with its passions

RAPE, she finally understood its aftermath,
she didn't even have to be touched
but violation, the shredding of morality, love, conscience
occurs everyday

mist clings thick and heavy near the ground,
lingering about the base of trees
illuminated by a moon who doesn't know it exists
from here, I can pretend to hold it all in my hand

back in the theater,
and sitting, watching from a moving bus,
I see a world in each, an entity
which they suffer,
for I see in both, their destruction