Poetry · Writing

Cruel

​The mask is off.

Blank faces rest on weak shoulders and false masculinity.

Sweat pours from strong brows and strong cheek bones too thin jaw lines.

Eyes wondered through, judging silently, to there own appreciation.

The mask is on. The crowd falls in silently to do their bidding and work of drones.

Quietly escorted through the bowels of the beast never questioning the mask.

Poetry · Writing

Strange

The doctor strolled in deep blue drapes sashed in brown cloth. Dark eyes filled with mystery and deception similar to the eyes of the goth. Everything was a lie using him to commit loth. The doctors life was fulfilling, glamorous and all he needed even to betroth. Lies stole this and fly away in the moonlight like a luna moth.