CLIII: On those who only act, and know naught else

Say, do I do it well? How would I score

before the board before me on the bench?

Does my performance spark, or make you snore?

Do all my moves, your expectations quench?

It’s been but all my life that I’ve rehearsed.

I haven’t gone a day without a coach.

But still, I wonder if my act is cursed,

and prone, forever, to my own reproach.

But few know that my act is that at all.

They see but some poor fool attempt to cross

a stage that only those like me will call

a stage. Wo fools who don’t know what we’ve lost.

So how’s my act? Do I convince you, too,

that I’m a normal human, just like you?