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