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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required You saunter through the double doors Head held high Chest puffed out Putting on airs You think you’re so clever, so deceiving Showing up baring the most ornate mask But I see right through The mask that you wear tonight You think it will conceal You think just tonight In this hour You can be somebody else But you’re dancing with the Belle of the Ball This is MY Masquerade And this is the 147th event You just don’t recognize me Because I wear a different mask each time Your mask is cheap material Sequins missing, feathers askew Such feeble attempts I smell your bravado Putrid and reeking, stinking up the air But I see right through I’ve donned masks my whole life That’s why I am the bearer of this sash That you see around my neck “Strongest Person I Know” But I allow no one to gaze under the mask Sure I play the Belle oh so well But if you all saw beneath Saw WHY I’ve had to wear masks You’d strip me of my title You’d rip off my sash Break the pearls from my neck You’d run for the door tonight Quicker than Cinderella at the stroke of midnight That’s the beauty of a Masquerade You can pretend to be something you’re not When one guise becomes worn When it loses its sparkle It’s glamour and charm That first catches your eye Well it’s quite alright Because I have a treasure trove BURSTING with masks Grab another and keep dancing Twirling the night away Never skipping a beat But when the music finally comes to an end When the door closes and the final guest departs Empty wine glasses are seen scattered all around The only sound is the echo of my heels When the confetti lies lifeless on the floor That’s when I remove my mask Exhausted, worn and weary When I gladly, almost desperately Take off my tattered sash And throw it beneath my feet Because I’m not resilient and strong now I feel weak, frail and reclusive in my realm That’s when the tears start to brim That’s when I wish someone else held the title So stripped and naked Alone to clean up the mess Everyone else has left behind But there’s no one to there to pick up the sash Just me and the sound of my tears Echoing as they hit the floor Almost fearfully I pick up the sash Dust off the confetti Smooth out the wrinkles Before placing it back around my neck As I throw my shoulders back Standing taller than ever Wiping away tears that no one saw I walk back to my trunk My trunk of the most decorative Ornate, obscuring masks Finding another to wear As I prepare for the next façade The next Masquerade
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