The voice of rage and ruin run round the room
While party players plead plebian plights
And dancers dine on dim delights
All are actors awaiting applause
Someone laughs loudly—lingering loneliness
Another silently cries in the cold
Attic crypt of consciousness
Bemused smiles and serious looks
A glance of suspicion solicits
Another’s acknowledging nod
A cough, a wink, a wry smile
What does it all mean? This madness?
Wordlessly watching.
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