We all wear disguises; women painting their faces with disfiguring cosmetics as men bathe their exteriors in charm. What lurks beneath this bleeding mascara and tainted lipstick, this fool proof trick of a traitor? Yesterday evening, I myself attended a masquerade ball of shattered dreams; this attendance of mine, I was unaware of. I wear no masque. I don't paint my face with plastic toxins as does the typical woman, nor knowingly bathe myself in contorted enchantment like the typical man. I am the ambiguous. I am the fool. I am the pawn in your twisted game. Why put me through this playful torture? The masque you wear, my king, has bled your true colours; the colours of a venomous snake. You are the hidden.
Miss me not, for I am only lost and one day will be found.
Monday, March 16, 2009
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