We wear the masks to appease
appetites most would deny
borrowed from the unseen
then yelled from the rooftops

all too real except it’s not
imaginations running wild
denying more than what’s shared
while explaining mysteries

feeding rats inside of wheels
running circles without repeal
they’ll not know the finish line
even as the world is blessed

invoked inside cloistered shells
tendrils take what they may
bending wills that are contrite
when revelation comes at a price

shadows taken from the wall
ghosts of what came before
revenants desiring blood
from the souls born of stones

those labels worn without regard
the flesh dissolves in the end
leaving nothing more than masks
stating purpose without regrets.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190321.