Masquerade

Masquerade

 

Magnificent swirls etched around a human face.

Masks that clutch to the flesh with a tight clasp.

Edges of it are bound with delicate, silken lace.

That give a façade of  joy that its porcelain seems to grasp.

The vivid colors coil around in a whimsical race.

A mirror of deception to deflect emotional rasp.

 

Why then do we hide our painful rasp?

Behind the painted smiles smudged on our face.

Is it something that others will never seem to grasp?

Why do we insist on strangling our feelings with lovely lace?

We put on a masquerade as if our true selves can be simply unclasped.

Then if we remove it, fear, like blood in our veins, starts to race.

 

With the mask on, our mind is in a hasty race.

To struggle to play a person; someone without any inner rasp.

A stranger to stare at; the eyes don’t match the face.

They show to much, be quick to take this truth with a firm grasp.

Create a distraction; garnish the mirrors to your soul with lace.

Disown your feelings make it as simple as undoing a clasp.

 

There’s a reason why humanity is left as a broken clasp.

Why we chose to distance ourselves from the human race.

Why should they concern themselves when we have deep, unhealed rasps?

What would they want with a pallid sad face?

Should they lend us a hand, a friendly, warm grasp?

Give us bandages for mending instead of crude lace?

 

We should be concerned because we all tangle ourselves in the lace.

We want to dispose our emotions by just the unhooking of a clasp.

Not let it grow tired and worn on our already exhausted face.

Why not let others know that, we too, have agonizing rasp?

Some more than others, but all of us are competing in the same race.

Racing to try to find ourselves, to search for some meaning to grasp.

 

It can be hard to discard our masks; to want a hand for us to grasp.

To let ourselves breath and cut off our labyrinth of lace.

Take our ruined heart and repair its sensitive clasp.

And finally let ourselves rest from this pitiful race.

Connect with others; help each other heal all rasps.

Then we don’t have to masquerade to have a happy face.

 

Never again let fear seize you in a horrifying grasp.

Don’t ever betray yourself to ugly lace.

Remove your mask; bring healing to all rasps.

 

 Copyright to: lfamily@surfglobal.net /poetofmidnight

<a rel=”license” href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/3.0/”><img alt=”Creative Commons License” style=”border-width:0″ src=”http://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nd/3.0/88×31.png” /></a><br />This work is licensed under a <a rel=”license” href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/3.0/”>Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License</a>.


2 Responses to “Masquerade”

  1. Another touching sentiment, and very cleverly written.

  2. Thank you unsung poet once more!!!

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