Masks
Masks.
Fingers,
clawing at my face,
slipping beneath the facade,
tugging, tearing, flailing,
stripping off the veneer,
exposing the fragmented decay,
cloaked,
under this mask I wear today.
Hands,
groping for another layer,
embroidered on my thin skin,
peeling, rotting, searing,
shaving away the truths,
entwined in a jagged kiss,
revealing,
the vacuum of an emotional abyss.
Fleeing,
from myself yet again,
bound for nothingness,
desolate, cold, empty,
lost on barren pathways,
bruising my heart as I tread,
shuddering,
at the horrors that lie ahead.
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