Pretend

I call to all who live concealed, To do battle But do be weary, That those with masks will fight, For they believe we’re all servants to the night. They’re unaware of flocks that live by the day, Multitudes whom allow daylight to sit on their face, Without a care if they’re actions can be traced An attitude I surely embrace. I once wore a mask, It shined like brass but weak like glass. I wore it for the sake of appearances Which in turn left me with an identity crisis. So then I disposed of the mask, My troubles went with it like a letter in a flask. I do yearn for tomorrow, When the world awakes from living in the shadow Of sworn leaders that are shallow, For our vessels are far from hollowed.