The Mask © Lisa Willhite Existing in the realm, of its own true hell the pacing of the parasite begins to swell it suffers in silence yet demands to be heard it will never survive without its bevy of words as an infant, it fed, on what it desired and the need to grow was quickly retired it donned a mask it had soon acquired and eventually dressed in regal attire I am! I am! it said aloud while hiding behind a glistening shroud to none it wavered to none it bowed worthy am I! it heartily vowed as a thief of hearts, it sought our souls and refused to acknowledge the unspeakable tolls it relished our pain our faults and our woes acted as friend yet lived as foe for the lower we were, the higher it’s rise sometimes nestled on pillows, feathered with lies soaring as an eagle, through bright blue skies impeding the light, from watchful eyes it changed lies to belief and that belief to admiration it became its own form, of revered celebration though to those who saw, through the garish decoration it was nothing more than sheer abomination these were few, who could actually see how sad and sickened, this thing could be they lost their battles, to make it flee as it wiggled in joy and laughed with glee and a new found strength, was gained from the seers they found it flaunting, in front of its peers for this mask was now learn-ed and it shed false tears and a victim was born, its path, though not cleared for as day turns to night, conflicts persist the heart can grow cold, but the soul still resists new defenders of truths will continue to enlist and the spirit of God will always assist yes a fight ensued, yet the beast stood tall and flashed it’s lies, fooling most all it cried poor me, and with such great gall It is I who has suffered!, was it’s deceptive call the truths presented the stern manipulations the deeds that were done, with much stipulation the lies that served, as mere stimulations and these they hoped, were condemning revelations the mask took form, and revealed a child the innocence of eyes that appeared softly wild no sign of his pride, no sign of the vile how dare the "truths" accuse him of guile hearts blood flowed, and non seers cried as the villagers witnessed a man so tried a man who was beaten, and his humanity denied a man who was not evil, but sanctified! The steel once hot, now cooled to strength it enveloped his soul and his body at length the blood of hearts, flowing in sync protected him now from morality’s links alas truth lost, but so did the beast for a cancer did grow, and on lies it did feast from within his throat, it locked in its feet and his mask is now meeting a deadly defeat Existing in the realm, of its own true hell the pacing of the parasite begins to swell it suffers in silence yet demands to be heard it will never survive without its bevy of words Lisa Willhite
Posted on: Tue, 09 Jul 2013 09:40:33 +0000
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