"I think your applause died out, hands red, tired, and stained with the hue of once excited blood. I think you thought I was magic. Did my curtain lift when I forgot to take my bow? I think you thought you saw mirrors hiding in the fog and light. Backstage and alone I will slide off the cape, set down the hat, and bow to the empty seat I thought you were filling. I think you thought I was magic."
- T. Knott Gregson
and I thought you were brave
and I thought you were true to your soul
I am tired of being at your beck and call
I am tired of seeing you controlled like a lifeless, helpless puppet on a string
fair-weather friend...
from my journals
