Perhaps the best in talent-
But fools they always were.
And we,
We who were through with being ever-second-
We devised a plan to rid the stage of them.
No, but perfect all the same.
Clever and cunning and every bit dramatic.
We could have been starring in our own piece.

It was to be a murder-
A double murder upon the stage-
We were not so cruel as to let them die away from it.
Yes, they would draw their final breaths there,
Watched by a crowd of-
What else?-
Fools who would merely think their acting superb,
And never comprehend
That the deaths they saw were real.
And even if they did know, did find out our crime,
So much the better for us.
We would still get our fame.

The play was that of the “star-crossed lovers”,
Doomed to die.
And so would our fools perish.

Opening night-
We were prepared.
Backstage, madness ran rampant,
But we kept calm.
And in the frenzy,
We made our move.
One trip to the prop table,
Unnoticed in the chaos,
And our work was done.
We watched them-
She in bloodred,
He in sickly green-
Not nervous enough.
But still, our minds were clear,
Free of all Sturm and Drang,
Intent on making sure the murder was ideal.

They were upon the stage.
They had not yet realized what we had done.
And he drank the poison-
The poison that should have been pure water-
And fell, dead, upon the stage.
He had no time to panic.
And, minutes later, she fell, too,
Stabbed by steel
Not the plastic she had expected.
Shocked into silence
As she died a bloody death.
Two fools lay dead.
The curtain closed.

Screams from backstage
Split the noise of the crowd.
Applause fizzled to a stop.