Masquerade Party

Black flowing robes, noses held high in the air
Choreographed movement, noble gait
Everything is as it should be
Every one is what they want to be.

My smile is indelibly carved into my face
You should never see my frown,
Everything is as it should be
Utopian fantasy as we tango in this ballroom.

I change dancer with similar expression
A simple sway into another’s embrace less intermission,
Tango goes on in this perfect world.
But my time’s up at this party.

Behind the smile on this plastic face
Flow agitated rivers down from the centre of my soul
Deep in the recesses of my core
A fiery churning ensues.

I tire of masks, lost emotions, unsaid words
I tire of curtseys and courtesy and propriety
I tire of Monday morning suits and Friday t shirts
I tire of the mask that was given to me.

I have a volcano building inside me
There is a geyser about to burst forth
This masquerade just won’t do
This hypocrite’s act is just about done

My time’s up at this party.


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