The Mask
An expressionless mask haggard by past mistakes
Of whithered pastures once fed by dried up lakes
Deep wells of empty promises lay barrenly
Cracked skin cemented in painful memory
A vortex of rumblings follows my journey
Recording the catastrophic events like a journal
And so I hum along to my own tragic sound track
Punctuated by the impromptu joy like a scratch
An itch to reach high sun blazing rain pouring
Nights freezing in corners were darkness's ever lurking
Adored in a suit to mask a bruised ego
A fake smile and a wave past it all as I go
You follow this ellaborate man in a costume
Unaware of how much he's being consumed
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