Stale frigid air emits from a stone wall,
Spikes impaling the surface with strange objects,
The sound of trickling liquid reverberates through the bleak space,
Bony fingers grab an object, sticky and wet,
Placing it over a hollow face,
The object barely squeezing on,
Gripping the flesh of its wearer,
Filthy feet emerge from the grey void,
Transforming into beautifully clad feet under the light,
The light drying the object,
Fusing it to the wearer's skin,
A withered smile now frozen on the object,
As it grips the wearer's face tighter in response to the light,
The wearer's walks on,
Encountering another,
Whose object is so well tailored,
The stream of blood behind the other's object unnoticed,
Drops spilling onto the ground with vestige of vanquished emotions,
They part,heading further into the light,
Time creeped by,elegant feet backtrack into the desolate vacuum,
Light siphoned out of the void,
With it the sham of beauty,
Obscene hands tug at the object,
Wishing to return it to its spike,
It splinters,
Ripping off lumps of flesh and skin from the wearer's face,
To the point where the wearer's face was indistinguishable from the mask,
Even to the the wearer,
Scarred hands take another mask,
Setting it over the disfigured mass,
Returning to the light with perfect grin in place,
Taking in the multitude of masked fellows scattered across the plane,
With smiles frozen over their masks,
The fantasy of perfection marred by blood stained grounds,
The perfect masquerade.
Vote|comment |share
أنت تقرأ
Lyrics Of The Heart
شِعرThe bleeding heart of a poet drips unto a piece of paper, staining the surface with beauty.
