Short topical thing I ripped from a picture...don't complain about the length, just fuck with it;
There’s a man who stands damned…commanding a mask & a lord’s cane,
A cape spans his back; arms forward...shoulders behold a placid broad gait,
Peaceful holder of the bluntest sword ‘till it swung & sung discord;
Had him shunned uncured, in a one sided concord he was made…impasse; ingrained,
Lost, once implored those, who chose to ignore him, for a contour of his past…a name,
Can’t quite recall why he was abhorred, hordes & masses told him his masquerade,
Was made to envelope his pain, now how did he develop this enveloping bane?
The frail fella forever feigned freedom was a floundering fool’s game,
So now he’s padlocked, mocked by his own façade, times shown his soul is hard to claim,
Can he feel a tug of the heart or brain? Or contemplate the love of the art or shame?
The hilarity on his “face” encases the polarity of his being, craving parity or grace,
But no…no familiarity in his place, just a guaranteeing smile all the while, refusing to efface.
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