RITUAL.

Masks are a heavy attire

An invisible force-field

Between myself

And unwanted benevolence

Effortlessly sleek

Incredibly stunning

The designs I pull off

On short notice,

Under impossible deadlines

Emerge mind-blowing creations

Of a deceitful individual

Making gullible

The trickiest trickster

But masks ā€“

Masks are a heavy attire

They must come off in nightly solitude

They must reveal the body beneath

They must pull at this haggard face

And be set down aside the broken mirror

I examine my reflection

And confirm

I appreciate the necessary evil

I accept that this is my burden

My fashionable cross

They can never

Must never know

What I am determined

To keep from myself.

Published by alexiima

Life's a party in a sunflower field. Even when we wilt, we are beautiful to behold.

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