my version of Shakespeare's "the seven stages of life"

All the world's a stage
And all the men and women are called players
They have their exits and their entrances
And one person in their lifetime plays many parts
Their acts being seven stages. At first the infant,
Thought to be adored, but secretly despised.
And then the obedient school goers, with their coffee
And shining morning face, running like a sprinter,
To catch the morning bus. And then the lover,
As bright eyed as a movie star, with a sigh
Made to their partners visage. Then the intern
Full of hope, and looking for a job, like a dog
Searching for a crumb. Sudden and quick in
Answers, seeking the best paying reputation,
Even in this poor economy! And then the worker,
In bored mind, and tired body.
With red pen handy and skirts touching toes,
Full of anguish in seeing those kids every day.
And so, they play their part. The sixth age shifts
Into the wrinkly, fat, old women,
With double chins and stomach waggling.
Her youthful beauty well saved
In minds eye; and once mechanical mind,
Turning again towards mushy emptiness.
With heart turned black and burnt. Last scene of all
That ends this soon forgotten history,
is second stupidity, and weak bladder.
A troublesome elder, that is no more wise than me.

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  • Kastor
    October 25
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    I like it phenoqu. I like it that you can read and write and interpret and cut your own hair. You're neat.

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