You wear a Hoodie
And square seltzer glass
Hiding your face with a mask.
From the crowds and numerical craft.
A whiskey withered with your wrath
A tear bloodstained in your graph.
A Madness of your bitch bestie's laugh
Acting sober when u want to tangle legs and go to frats
You have Cigarettes Leading your tomb in Thule
A mayfly in your bed at Saturday, June
Where u shall Slither and melt away ,
You step on that Cult and pull your wage,
With a headphone on
And metal hitting Bozon,
Thy devotion to the anonymous mask Forlorn.
You scavenge the weed and packets of blame
Thug life singing with no fashion designers chain,
Pull up on that tattoo of scares you cut day after day
Trying to think what to write in this sharad
A masquerade you wear of the perfect frame
A picture which is broken
And a shattered name.
Today I think I'm lost in a road I can't see
But still have followers on Instagram and FB
Why me You ask again
This time there is
No one to play this game
Alone here tonight,
Soul screaming in Blight
And no feel to tell that I'm right.
Prove me wrong and kill me thrice.
Because this is my Masquerade.