The Cutting Room Floor

The rolls took up half the room
Cartridges of my life in film
Overflowing from their bins
It was all important; it was my life

On screen it played out for me; my memories
But the theaters were always empty
No one to listen to my story
Even when the only cost was my dignity

When the patrons would decide to come
They walked out in disgust, grumbling
The papers call my film a failure
The fans wanted joy not tears
They wanted comedy not tragedy

I used to sit on the cutting room floor
Cutting, trying to edit this life
Take out the bad, exploit the good
I had a few good scraps, glimpses of hope
But the years became minutes
A film became a commercial

Sometimes I still try to revisit the cutting room floor
I desire to cut, to edit
Create something the fans will adore

You would probably like my film a lot more now
But you cannot have the good without the bad
Instead I will watch it in silence
With a VIP audience
Accepting my own life, unedited

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