Masks and Gowns

Ladies in 18th Century Gowns, holding onto extravagant gold plated masks,
shielding their faces from the glaring lights.
Dramatic crimson red curtains flow down covering the stage,
Mysterious figures glided across the wooden flooring.
I stood in the midst of bodies without any visible faces;
a notebook stuck stiff in my hand, a pen perched on my ear.
My sneakers moved awkwardly on the surface of the waxed floor.
The theaters was where identity for once,
wasnt important.
A place where death was being played like a game,
Where past is in rewind,
fairy tales being turned into reality.
My Imagination ran like fire on oil,
The theaters were always full of perplexity,
Death and Life, Love and Hatred
both mixed in perfect contrast.
The curtains moved gracefully apart;
now the show begins.