She was a beggar, rooming empty streets.

She was darn pretty, bright and neat.

She dreamt of treasure, golden crown,

But dealt bad cards and slowly drowned.

He was an actor, playing on the hearts,

He was outstanding patron of the arts.

He walked the Earth, like it was his

Did all the things he only pleased –

She thought he did, when watching him

Form cold outside, through colored stream.

She watched and envied easy life

She dreamt to be, at least, his wife.

The life is known to be a cruel joke

Thus, king can can meet with common folk.

The life played such a trick on them,

When poverty met face to face with gentleman.

 

She looked at him with envy at her lips

He watched her, tired of same scripts.

She asked and pleaded: “Pretty please”

A bitter laugh slapped her with ease.

He called her: Silly, silly girl,

For thinking he has tamed the world

“The more of life you get,” He sworn

“The more you would be used to mourn:

The moments you can’t safe from flash,

Your private life turns into ash.

It’s not a joyride, far from it,

I burn each day in hellish pit.

I’d give a lot to take your place

Where no one knows my cursed face.”

She cackled, drawling “It’s a shame

You must be in such dreadful pain.”

He smirked at her, his voice upset:

“Sometimes I wish that I was dead.”

She laughed again: “Then go ahead,

Don’t whine to me. You’re overfed.”

He did not answer, struck by her,

But then again there is no cure,

For greedy, stupid, out of place,

That was the grace of human race.

 

He sighed, and walked away from there,

She scowled and cursed: “You are not fair!”

The truth, however, stayed between:

“Don’t judge the role you haven’t been.”