by myself and Finn Singer... by the way, I know Robert Smith is really random, but Finn felt the need to throw him in this poem.


The Masks

I see a crowded room full of faces that belong only there
With billowing robes and voluptuous hair,
Their lanterns held, and masks they wear
With faces hidden
they go nowhere
And they feel nothing *poetic sigh/pause*
Darkness, pain, angst, Robert Smith,
A vacant expression is plastered upon their masks
Plaster masks with smiles painted upside-down
We see only the fake exterior of who they are believed to be


I guess that what I'm trying to say is that these were some really ugly people.



Poetry by kata
Read 791 times
Written on 2009-02-25 at 18:52

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Reilley
I loved this. I collect masks, and have often felt this exact way.
2009-02-25