Masquerade

A colourful array of falsehoods
Intricately designed disguises 
Fools, fortunes, phantoms
Masks clinging on their faces
 Lives hidden away by an illusory veils
Veils that cannot be removed
Cannot be seen
Secrets tucked away in their eyes
Each a pair of stained glass windows that peer into their essence
A glassy marble home for their soul that if I looked into too hard would shatter
Revealing everything that’s so carefully tucked away in the deep waters of their iris

The constant buzz of talking voices 
Like cicadas on a bland, midsummer morning
Droning on and on
Nonsensical jabber
Their voices forcing their way in my mind
Latching on and not letting go
Easily forgotten
Inconsequential

Fraudulent elegance that appals me  
Something so distinct yet tainted by the frantic, steps of the beings around me
Music guiding them to their predestined downfall
The string weaved webs entrapping them like insects
They do not panic yet follow maniacal horde of feverish behaviour 
Selling their souls for this siren song
It rings in my ears, pierces through my mind and lures me towards 
That’ll remain a hazy memory locked in the back of my mind

 
There in the crowd I see a curious sight
Your mask 
A macédoine of a pleasantly sombre frown 
A twisted mockery of joy
A peculiar sight
That holds a comfort alluring impression
An enticing invitation 
A looking glass in which depths I find you
What are we if not a tragic pair?
The laughable parody of a Shakespearan play
Comedy and Tragedy
Intertwined fates 
I want to reach out, take off your meticulously crafted mask
Who is the soul living in your iris?
What caused it such great hurt?

Yet I’m afraid of shattering you
Or maybe I am afraid that underneath it all
All I’ll see is a reflection of me

As I look closer
I see one single tear travel down the porcelain skin of your disguise
I search your iris from a reason 
Your crystal sphere of truth holds no answers
 It’s an empty, foggy void
Your soul so deeply tucked away that it’s invisible 
I want to reach in, pull it out
Roll it in my hands carefully
Mesmerised by its details, flaws and imperfections 
Study it and memorise it to my heart’s content
Before dropping it back into your neverending fractal lake
Not forgotten
Noteworthy 

Lost in the mob of fluttering cicadas 
Coloured visages at every burning glance
Beautiful yet judging 
Bulging wide eyes following my steps
Expressions of simulated pity contorted by their porcelain coverings 
Drowning in their stares I want to become a phantom, a child of the shadows
An angel of darkness, a spectator able to watch these creatures from afar
Undetected
Softening my gaze I seem to sympathise with these beings
After all, isn't this a perfect place to hide your face from the prying eyes of this world around you? 
Masquerade, such a tantalising facade

Copyright © Madame Paillasse | Year Posted 2023

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