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Kane Jan 2015
The solemn grey skies
reflecting the soul within.
Scarred beyond recognition
from wounds inside,
suffered outside.
Trying to fix what was broken
the gloomy soul strides forth.
Seething with an anxious desire to learn
continuing onwards, but all for naught.
Silent dew drops roll
down that calm mask.
Nana Alli Jun 2020
License to die,
Contract to ****,
That was the deal,
Buried my heart,
Wore a mask
And blood spills

Inhumanly human,
Tears floods my heart,
Yet, I stand head high
Even with death
Staring into my eyes

Chanting,
No guts!
No glory!
For I am a lethal weapon
And no one dies twice!

As I leave my body
I remain loyal
To Alfa,
Died a Romeo for my country,
Served as Mike,
Till we meet in Yankee,
Even in afterlife my symbol is peace
But my loyalty belongs
To the
Alfa Romeo Mike Yankee.

©Nalli
Pauline Morris Apr 2016
I'm rarely myself, I try to stay alone
My true feelings can't be shown
Because if they don't know me
I often offend, they can't see
Past the heartache and the pain
That drives me insane

So I stay out of sight the best I can
For wearing a mask I simply can't stand
So those that enter my personal bubble
Usually find it a bit troubled

When I get to lonely, the only ones I chose
Those I let close
Those that can take the blows
Of all that I decided to disclose
She puts on the mask of a happy daughter.
Her friends are jealous of her life.
No one knows that she’s alone because her parents are never home.
How long until she breaks under the pressure?
How long until the feeling of unloved takes her life?

She wears a mask like her favorite superheroes.
Trying to hide behind that sweet smile.
But inside a war is raging.
Inside her heart is breaking.
Inside the truth screams out.

He wakes up and the mask comes on.
Hiding the pain of watching his sick mother dying.
No one knows that their losing everything they have.
How long until he’s alone on the streets?
How long until he steals or dies, because he has no home?

He covers up the pain with his attitude.
Pretending that he owns the world.
But inside a war is raging.
Inside his heart is breaking.
Inside the truth screams out.

Acceptance is all they wanted.
Unconditional love from someone.
Never got that kind of feeling at home.
They might as well be alone.

We all wear a shape of a mask.
Whether it’s every day or occasionally.
It’s hard to keep your heart wide open.
For the fear they might not like what they see.
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2013
July 3, 2011


These were the orders of the day,
issued by admirals
who monitor the lanes surrounding
this sea island and that now include
my desolated, desecrated, heart waves
that wash ashore.  

With beacon searchlight,
high powered, prowl,
be a coast guard on the bay
of humanity, following wakes,
intersecting misaligned paths,
undoing crisscrossed roads
on a plane of water,
forever search,
permissioned only
to never cease, tasked only to:

Save the young ones.

For there is no cost
we will not bear,
take our mind's light,                
our speech, the music from ears,
the fiber'd essence of
our tissue-thin life's weave,
but let us be, leave us,
to save the young ones.

Leave us not becalmed, baffled,
broken, discovering
what sound we make
when our throats are
grief engorged beyond bound,
so leave us the young ones.

When we fail, what it is,
I do not know,
how to name it, cannot,
for I am forever
star gazing, star lost, confused,
with every breath ruptured,
my own value to wonder,
and on and on to ponder:

Is there no end to the reservoir
of tears that accompany these
spilled and spoiled thoughts,
stained kisses on paper
where ink and saltwater connect,
and lay upon the surface of
memories that can't be blotted,
never be replaced or,
cry out, cry out,
be added to?

How many sad poems.              
must yet invade my fingers,
ripping my mask of reason off,
making me unhappily familiar
with jagged edges of the sea,
each drop - a tipping point
into places I wanted never know,
a rendering reminder of
these days of disorder,

Save the young ones.
How I used to write...hundreds of poems in dustbins, but like this I right no more.
Laura Nov 2015
I never thought I’d be one of those people
the ones who sit in coffee shop's on Bay
readied note pads in hand, sitting with engraved pens
bought by mothers with high expectations
of their child drawing out the new future

But here we sit, a collective sum
drawing out pathetic fallacy’s
peoples right arms
someone else's future in poetic prose
finding details in the blur
of business men rushing past
so green is a theme in these woods

Grande Decaf 2 Sugars 2 Milk
and a shot of espresso
I stayed up late finishing a politics paper
What’s keeping you up “Todd of TD Bank”
Your extravagant 2 bdrm 2.5 bth on Bloor?
Or the realization your wife cheated on you
with a younger college drop out
i don't actually care Todd
i just want to write a new **** poem

Satchels hang from wooden chairs made by moroccans who get paid bottom dollar
I sit drinking over the sweat of latin americans picking coffee beans in a summer heatwave
the music plays to mask the confusion i feel here
displaced
my sperrys muddy and unkept
i am a large flaw in this small system

i'll keep my pen gliding
finding the answers to my questions
hoping when my words meet they shake hands in agreement
they are thoughts but not entirely
thoughts are questions short lived
and often unanswered

it turns out theres no answers in my silver pen either
engraved with an edgar allen poe quote
to a poem my mom never bothered to read
she wants me to draw a future
yet doubts me in every step to achieving one
Amber S Nov 2011
you are a dog with its tail tucked under
the belly. with no sound left
for bark.
i saw this coming weeks ago
i smelled your rotten stench
your poison
was hard to miss.
crawling, with nothing left but
your tears. how dumb am i?
no. no. not anymore.
the glint in your doe eyes
your teeth with a hint of daggers
the crack in your mask is so
apparent now.
while taking you in my arms
you would have bashed my head in
until my mind was blank again.
instead, i will turn
for there is nothing i want to give
instead, i will watch you suffer
and laugh until all sanity has escaped
instead, i will pour the guilt down
your throat.

you will choke.
Christian Ek Sep 2014
Skeleton bones in the closet, no, not I, I got live bodies locked in chains. In the spirit of Halloween, I'll wear a hockey mask and be that obsessed killer. Teenage kicks, listen close for the screams. ****** from neglect, ****** because of reject, ****** brought on by me always feeling depressed. You called me names, you tortured my spirit, you ****** me like the idols you worship. I've worsen since i started feeding on your hate. This is my manifesto. Are you scared? You should be. Because I won't take the ranting rambling bigotry you speak. This will be something straight out of a horror scene. The plot thickens, foreshadow what's next. If you think this story is fiction well it's not because we live in a cold world and I'm only giving you a description, a depiction of what words can do, I use mine for assistance, I learned to listen, I hope you do too, because you can create a monster with the powerful words you decide to use.
Sydney Victoria Nov 2012
Don't You Dare Speak,
Your Words Trying To Make Blue Streaks,
On The Monalisa Of My Soul,
Black Graffiti Stains My Wishes,
And Teeth Bare At My Well Being,
Am I Daft?
Or Sane?
My Head Pounding With Lyrics,
About How Cruel Life Can Utterly Be,
Sharpie Crossing Out My Faith,
Paint Vandalizing My Mended Heart,
Rust Dressing The Hinges Of My Heartbeat Itself,
And Golden Irises Reset,
Back To Seaweed Green,
Resting On A Bloodshot Background,
Crayons Scribbling On The Coloring Book,
Of My Dreams,
Making It A Midnight Sky Mask,
Flecked With Miserable Maroon Tears,
Slang Covers My Intellect,
Making It Foggy And Usless,
You Can Thank Society,
For Sculpting My Strength,
From A Slab Of Clay,
Burning It In A Kiln,
To The Foundation Of Life,
I Am Art,
Sculpted From The Earth's Face,
Yet I Sit On A Shelf,
Collecting Dust,
And All Of The Arrogent People,
Doodle On My Shell,
Colors Make An Ugly Mix,
On My Bodies Skeleton,
And What Is Making Me Special,
Is Slowly Drowning,
Underneath A Sea Of Graffiti
Brian Kelley Jan 2016
A lie looks like a burglar who wears
a bandit mask, a cloak, and a top hat
it sneaks into a room
it steals a baby from its mother
by ripping it from the womb
stash it in a sack thrown over its shoulder
keeping it there until its festering corpse
leaves a stench so unbearable not even
the burglar itself could stand
the smell anymore the smell would eat it alive
its eyes and tongue would fall out.
A lie would always have something to hide
something behind its rotting teeth
charged with a felony
to rot in its own jail.
Jedd Ong Sep 2013
God please
Let my ruse
Hold out
Just a little bit further.

Let my mask
Stay on
Just a little bit longer.

Let me walk away
With Pride
Still dangling
From my chest-

Lord grant me no rest.
We all fall short.
CL May 2015
I loved you and you couldn't see it
You put on your mask and hid away
Every now and again letting a glimpse of yourself out,
It was beautiful like the sun on a cloudy day.
I loved you and you couldn't see it,
So you pushed me away.

Maybe I did the same.
Me
I have a dream
My head has turned to cream

What happened to myself
I think my brain has turned to mush

I used to be normal
But I am in turmoil

They tell me to look back
But when I do I get smacked

Why is this ghost haunting me
Ghosts run like blood through my veins

They say don't believe in ghosts
I see shadows that reminds me of a host

The host is taking over my body
When will I be destroyed because of that hot toddy

They say normal
Why so hormonal

I hate that lunatic
Going to blow up like a tick

Are you going to **** yourself, they ask
No Stan I don't have a plan for I wear a mask
Masks are comfortable to me
Because no one knows the pain I see

This crazy s--t must end
Before I yell you win

Every day I wake up at 3:05
That's when the crazies begin
Written by: Denise Huddleston
Andrew Bledsoe Jul 2012
It is that time again,
You know? The chins
Come out to meet
The shins.

When sweaters hang up and
The sun is warm;
Fill up your cup
With stuff.

Empty now, as before;
Have another
With your brother,
For sure.

Blurry now, like back when
Grins met our eyes;
Sins met our thighs.
Your loss.

I remember what you
Wore the night you
Swore that word you
Hate: love.

Sweaters soon.
This sandpaper chin has
Got to go
Or this beard will be my
Mask until
It is that time again.
Olga Valerevna Nov 2012
She is everyone, he is everywhere 
Talking fast and walking strange without a care 

Pick and choose the words you bruise 

They're apples falling from a tree
Once bitten, you ingest reality 

And skin becomes the center of the battlefield 
A place that you have entered but forgot your shield  

Feel the fleets pass over every inch of you

When men saw hiding spots inside themselves 
They became protectors of unruly cells 

Reflecting that which summons such passivity 
And welcomes what's elusive all too easily 

Because remember, there is no mask on a mime
Blue Orchid Oct 2018
'How to apply eye shadow' the title of the video said.  I looked at it with bewilderment, amazed at myself for finally resorting to this.  I was to dress well today. I was to look pretty for people so when they'd look at me,  they'd miss the dark circles that lined my eyes like a clingy lover.
I was to hide all the diprived part of my face from luck of proper supplement with foundation that resembled my skin.
I was to conceal the acne that started appearing a couple of weeks ago with a powder I didn't quite recognize. 
I was to decorate my eyes with eyeliner and mascara, my eyelashes curled way past their normal size, to hide how puffy they were from the night spent in tears.
I was to brush my eyebrows for they'd lose their shape each time I rubbed my eyes to  hold off the pending emotional storm.
I was too put blush on my sleep deprived face so i'd have an illusion of being lively.
Then i'd pick up the bright red lipstick and draw precise lines on my puffy lips,  making them glow with a ferver I never felt.
I would look at myself then, make up hiding every inch of the parts people would see and it would amaze me how even the well done mask could never truely hide the ache that shattered my soul. 
I start to walk out, then stop to look back at myself.
"You forgot something," I say then pick my smile up from the hidden place I keep it and plaster it on my face. 
"There you go."
Eriko Apr 2017
what is there to cling, clinging to the woven threads
in my nightmarish dreams, those dreams scattered
into the rosebushes and gushing ponds
they are set ablaze, and not even the scent can mask
the terrifying gaze, and the pond ices over
so that knuckles crackle where water stood before
so I set down in a downward spiral, into a massive hole
set under the ***** of my feet, I cling onto the fabrics
of this nightmarish dream, hoping that its reality
can unfold before, I say, before the ground gives away
and I'm ****** into this bottomless pit
Then with a shout I scramble, hair flying like double
shiny and marvelous, flowing and luscious
so that each glint from the fiery gaze sets wonder
and my knees rattle like the most terrifying thunder
yet into the inexplicable yonder, they propel me with
their creaking joints, like gravel's laughter
and with that laughter my feet find ground
and with that laughter light erupts with a dash
crackling and sizzling, beaming and booming
across the oily black sky of my nightmarish dream
yet here, this light was of a marvelous light
like the gush of courage and a momentous dosage
pushing and pulling of the sweetest melody
in my own vast, vast night sky
Katlyn Orthman Feb 2016
My lung expand
Slowly they deflate
I'm breathing in
Just a bit too late

My heart contracts
It beats inside
My lips are raw
From the pain I hide

Biting at them
I chew to think
My nails were perfect
And now they shrink

These thoughts are constant
They never end
I wear a mask
And play pretend

My stomach is empty
I hate to eat
I loathe the feeling
It's too complete

And I am broken
A jagged mess
After all these feelings
You confessed

I'm slowly gathering
My parts again
To build my mask
And play pretend
Natalie Bowers Aug 2018
Sunflowers, canaries, bumblebees,
jaundice, sour lemons, warning signs.
A colour is a colour, until its not,
so she hid herself in yellow.

Is it but a coincidence,
that she shows herself to be sunshine?
To distract from the storm inside,
she paints her outsides bright as day.

The yellow girl twirls in her room,
perfecting her flawless routine -
her performance as a sun ray -
ready again for the next day.

But when that yellow mask comes off,
prepare yourself for a downpour;
because no one ever taught a hurricane
not to rip others apart,
as they tear themselves to shreds too.

Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow,
like the sun, like the scorching flame.
If only I'd seen the warning,
I would not give myself the blame.
mike dm Apr 2016
you glazed bricks blue
at Ishtar Gate,
deep seas where
lion, bull and dragon dwell

you are featured on
the gold funeral mask of Tut,
adorning his brow line
in deep eternal hues.

your name is summoned
several times
in the Epic of Gilgamesh,
the oldest known piece of literature
known to exist.

your mere
consonance
of L's
and slant
assonances:

eleven tongues licking all my holes.
imagine aluminum Mar 2010
you are the forty-fourth
president
of the united states
of america.

you are black.
you are history.

you rolled in on the
waves of the storm.

you want to save us.

you are the forty-fourth
president.

even in the shower.

even when you sleep.

and when you get angry
and scream and flail your arms.

you are the president
of the united states
of america.

even when you cry so hard
it cracks your face.

you are the president.
you are america's new mask.
you are you.

barack hussein obama.
forty-fourth president.
USA.
Tiled Walls
Body Sore
Memories from the night before

Bathtub
***** stains
Bruises on your throat are a dead give away

Empty bottles
****** wrapper
You were sure before but full of regret after

Bathroom
Past noon
Time to put your mask on and face the news
waking up in the bathroom after a drunken one night stand
MereCat Oct 2014
Each morning
You add another layer to your mask,
Eat another grain of eyebrow,
Bruise the fringes of your lids a little darker
Are you so afraid of your beauty
That it must be swaddled?
You singe you scalp,
And dye your lips
So that colours crumb in the creases.
Sometimes I wonder;
Do you even recognise your reflection?
emma joy Apr 2013
Out
It's out now
like torn feathers from a flamenco mask
no disguise
no need for one
I was born ****.
I was always born this way.
a well of anger
              explodes inside of me. i no longer want to hold it in. i'm
full of      fear.  don't know how to express anger in healthy ways.

my outbursts last fraction of a second, but that's all you need to
put a fist through a wall.  

i've put on my nice polite mask for too long.
it feels like it's all for naught.  

am i my anger?  am i my fear?
all i can now is to embrace the parts
of me that i don't like and turn to
it to say, "thank you for coming.  
i love you."

my anger smiles back and
loves me back.  
my fear turns into hope.

my mask falls to the ground
to prepare the soil for new life
to grow.
Ellen Joyce Jul 2013
She thought that no one would come.
Everyone's someone was there
laden with sweet kisses so craved.
She felt his gaze on her back,
gentle warm strokes like the sun.
She had seen him in the night,
longing's whisper brought to life
an image her heart had saved.
She heard him call out her name
felt her lungs draw fresh breath
and her tears kiss her pale cheeks.

He thought he'd never get there.
His body trembles and aches
underneath the mask he weaves.
He draws her into his chest
kissing the top of her head
breathing in golden blessings.
Every pretense leaves him then.
He feels her spirit in his bones.
He holds her tighter, closer,
feeling familiar pain pangs,
as fears' tears stream down his face.

They thought more of each other
choosing not to dwell on self
but to give rather than to receive.
Fingers tracing round faces.
Eyes locked dancing together.
Hospital stench, ****** sheets
fade into wedding vow fabric
made clean by a lifetime's love.
Wander, wander, wandering
and though neither knows to where
shared is a love that knows all.
Ayeshah Dec 2015
You've learned to mimic emotions
despite your inability to actually
feel a ******* things

I scream*  
I Love You

Please don't do this

While being held tightly in your embrace
like iron rods wrapped round me

I see in your eyes
someone I no longer know
the illusions gone & the mask has fallen


I see the real you

too late

oh

its too late

too late for me


We seemed so happy together  
becoming one  
I was falling for you


I didn't listen to my woman's intuition

You have had this carefully plan out
every detail in advance

You have contingency plans in place
I'm sure of it

I have to fight but soon as the thought enters my mind
you slam me down

winds knocked out of me and my head spinning

Your quick movements
has me up against a tree trunk
I can feel the ropes
being tied tightly

I open my mouth to scream
beg & plead

swiftly you stick a rag in it


Guess you've really thought of everything
you know me too well


The streams taunting
me it's so inviting
if only.........

To late you're standing over me

I look up & you have this charismatic
charm about you as your smiling down at me

This is what caught my eye in the first place
that smile of yours


******

I should of know not to trust you
  One Year & Six Months ago

You're unremorseful
as I watch you dissociate emotionally
from all your actions taken place

Unremorseful of the feelings
I have towards you

I moan and you look at me
through me and
past my soul

chilling me as you walk closer

The stream is taunting me
it looks so inviting

Oh well

This is only

Only
*

*A Story!

Copyright ©
Ayeshah K.C.L.N
1977-Present  
All right reserved
AHAHAAHAHAHAHA
YUP just a story playing over and over in my mind! what shall happen to her? any ideas!
Joanie Poston Feb 2013
I am alone
I have hidden myself for far too long
But of this loneliness comes great song

I no longer want to be concealed
For this has the power to be healed

Or is it even remotely possible?

Can this mask ever be removed?

Or am I too ugly to be exposed?

For these are the questions that I must face
The ones used to make my case

Can anyone every truly understand me?

Or can I ever truly understand myself for that matter?
Or is my life destined to be destroyed and forever shattered?

of these disgusting thoughts that haunt my mind
and leave my heart hanging from a noose

Suffocating it squeezing every bit of blood that it has left
From all of the secrets hidden inside that I kept
Mud
For Katharine R. Cole

If gormless is as gormless does unite
That past of him and present me, I’ll turn
His other cheek against his waning sight;
I’ll **** his Hamlet soul to cringe and burn.

But dripping cannot thick or think in depth.
Blobs like blackened bulbous beads of eyes
Persist on shrinking into transits swept,
And down through dullard pools of choking fire.
Yet treacle binds my bole wood vocal chords
In rapture from such silence to withdraw
From sand that quickens, thickens, and distorts.
Can earth and water’s union mask my flaws?
The answer dares to dream but I refrain.
My name is Mud. Dear God, that is my name.

The foot: an endlessly dull point
Breathing technique, perfected by Roman Bill,
And a tall, sinewy, fine china ***** heel,
Cheap to most and worthless when submerged, submerges.
The tough Elephant hide surface
Of a swamp-like state and state.

Q. How does one become embroiled in such a located province of mind?
A. Alcohol’s venomous beauty and cheap living costs.
     The South.
    
An Elephant on a scooter stares blindly
At its own reflection circling the limb,
Shrugging dew drop eyes at what man had forgotten.
Not once, but twice.
    
The foot becomes a divulging calf of information
Sputtering in this bubbling torment of beige,
And pulsating around like an African tunnel
Waiting to be filled – fulfilled – ******.

    
The knee complies,
                      Sinking,
                                 Slowly,
                                          Not painlessly,
                                                             Not quick.

     The mercy of a lethal injection’s lie becomes
Absurd when one’s limb is the needle;
One’s brain the plunger of acceptance.
His gasp, a roar of silent fruit ripening in a
Mode too fast, cutting life and laundering
Expectancy whilst hanged from a
Whined whimper of Penance.
Purgatory’s whistle blows for time.  

II

A small red car clenched tightly
In the hands of a tightly tiny black boy,
His eyes huge and deep, but white; untouched by
Time’s clock or the weight of granite black that
He leans upon. Plastic tires screech horizontally along the
Structure of a Library’s historic insight.
Below, the ground is dry.
Beneath him, the ground is solid.
    
        Meanwhile, molten muck pulsates around
Our swirling antipathy of soul crushing
Nullness, with a lack of guilt unimaginable.
It bubbles, it bubbles: it toils in boiling rubbles
Of the past’s present and All I Could Have Been.
And I have never, could never
Sink lower in reality;
Blow harder against punishment’s wind;
Cry for this other as a **** filled wound weeps down her face.
    
The swirl of liquefied dirt and sand bags me,
Drags me, as if some *** lover of Hades is not done
With what is left of me. Disease to spread: just a little, just
A little more, like the detrimental bottle that
Knew me.
    

      As the hip is engulfed, an angle of almost perfect
Ninety creates  itself against the horizontal extremity
And puny ballsacksquash entails. Useless yet overused;
Timeless yet impressionable, pensionable. Gone.
Nothing knows me but this thickness’ quickness.
          That wants too much
From nothing               but existence
And the scab that fastens with time.

III

Turn the bottle back and find strength to
Outpour the clock and grant eternity.
Non compliant strength paid a fiver
For a soul worth two at the most.
A penny for the worthless: For the sickened lame.
Empty time feeds rays of golden from the sun fuelled
Encrusted *******, mudfast on heat.
This somehow seems like action.
Firm firmness but cracked with ease and
Non-returnable once inflated;
Non-negotiable on the bloodorgans of salt.
Weakness and powerlessness: *****.
*** for tat, for ***, ***, ***. For tat.
    
     The Elephant rises.
You brought this upon yourself, this rain of mud;
This treacle that will dry when you are dirt.
You would not let it ******* lie.
All of your ******* life: this strife, that wife.
     Your second leg (the grasper) tries,
     At length, to shield your heart:
     The only thing that cries.
     That does not want to die.
     Cartoonish bubbles of brown pop to the tune
     Of Loonies; of your shoebox brain that screams in vain.
What is your name? What is your want?
There is no blame you ******* maniac.
Everyone knows. Sink awake. Sink.
     Rest: do not sleep. Freezetimeframe.
     There is one more timeless point to make.


The sun and moon meet brief: the seconds count,
But die shy of one minute. Clear the road.
‘Tis dusk, I fear they named it. Raise the mount
And sacrifice another drowned sot load.
The moment thence: Anonymous descent.
The digger meets the dead in buried time.
The wish is washed in mud, the liver spent.
The blood-stained hands of Glasgow dodge the crime.
Make speed my sick sad Miller, grind the grain
Of Galloway, Gibb, Neave, Dunlop and Cole.
Your ghost will haunt your tag if not your brain.
Your heart should part this city river’s soul.
The sunjoke frozen, captured, stumped, and framed.
My name is Mud. Dear God, that is my name.
Kimberley Fritz Apr 2011
[Falling from this cliff laughing,
I fall towards my only you.]

Its your reflection in the water,
your face that I need to touch.
It's your fault, selfish guiser,
that I love your face this much.

Fake it is, I implore you,
remove for once this mask you wear.
Break me, hurt me, if you need to,
Its ok, your pain lets share.

Hiding as you have completely,
just a reflection that I glance.
I wonder if its you I see,
and jump with my selfish trance.

[Falling from this cliff laughing,
I fall towards my only you.]
http://todo-mahem.deviantart.com

— The End —