Our disguise is self inflicted,


The Mask




What lies therein,
Behind the mask,

The masquerades
Device.

That those who wear,
Should stop and stare,
And see the truth for once,

Flesh, skin, and bone,
Relinquished from its home,

The truth of ones own soul,
Revealed.

We hide in doors and walls,
We hide with masks and call,

"Can't you see me for what I am?"

Our disguise is self inflicted,
Our hearts become restricted,

To living,
To loving and,
Being free.
________________________________________




Poetry by W. Burkholder
Read 662 times
Written on 2007-03-06 at 18:11

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