The Mask

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

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