Acta est fabula

The warriors swung their great axes
Till one found its mark, blushing murderous red
Draping the fourth wall with a curtain of villanous blood,
Saw its wielder, his beloved wed

And as the scant crowd dispersed,
The quick and the dead rose to clear the stage
Each washing the play paints from his visage
Joined his mate - to another opera

But the clown sat in stupid trance
For he had worn his mask too long, its colours mixing
With his face till he could tell neither apart,
His living soul from the dead world ill fitting
Into his corpse from the land of the living

Even as he hunched in the empty stage corner
Tears awash his laughing face,
The last of the yellow play lights dimmed
Leaving him acting into the dark