The Masquerade Ball

These masks have to come off, not one but all,
The false faces concealed beneath this ruthless skin.

Everyday, a new masquerade ball,
Fake bodies gliding, such effortless sin.

Zombies, each one of us.
Phony smiles, pretty disguises,
Guilt, shame, sympathy, trust-
All lies in motley shapes and sizes.

A fleeting glimpse of forethought i seek,
An unfeigned twinkle of the eye,
This venom, such acid, draw my senses meek-
Not a scruple found, nor a mortified sigh.

These masks, these cloaks, these drapes, these robes.
Melted malign these parasites soak-
Gnawing, eroding every fleck of truth,
Seeping deep - all soul uncouth.

A freedom delayed, an exemption denied,
This clinging grime is a bounded dose.
Persist and lose all in sight.
Resign and attain a content repose.