I paint a picture of my face
And hide it every day,
For darkness holds a subtle grace,
Where only the fallen lay.

My mind retreats beneath the veil
Of etiquette and blush
Too far away to sound their wail,
My thoughts fall dead and hushed.

I almost lost my grasp, today,
Amidst the daily act,
For to forget the mask would give away
Something too hidden to retract.

The eyes I wear were  crafted
By eager, destructive hands,
Determined to mold a plastic
To withstand my soul's demands.

You know me not, my sorry friend,
And hidden I shall stay,
For to open up would bring an end
To the most beautiful facade.

My audience calls out the plot,
As I readily obey,
As my feet drag blood across the stage,
They lament their accolades.

I'm hidden here, despite the light
That bears upon my face
Only to find solace in the night
Obscured by a perverted grace.