MASK ME

As I dwell upon the wells of my tears,
Yearning for that feeling of lost purity,
A rush of sweet whisper comes to me,
As soothing as rarely woven honey.

This small death... 'la petit mort'-

Another trick by Master Reality,
But nothing can compare to the tragedy,
of putting on Hope's makeup,
Which distorts Sorrow's beauty.

A demise of faith,
Remembrance of it I shall lay plain,
Unto the world's face to see,
A mask of deceit, yet so pretty.

Therefore, mask me.

Copyright owned by Amel Hanan.