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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2248627-The-Masquerade
by Rakkit
Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #2248627
The blade against the skin.
The Masquerade

                    How could this happen?

Love is a Harlequin's ruse.
An unhealing wound, blood drips—
Dying words rest on ruby lips—
The blade against the skin, the pain their muse.

                   Where am I?

Upon my head they place a crooked crown.
Air hushed, choking, still—
I feel them; shadows kill—
The blade against the skin, paints me a permanent frown.

                   What have you done?

My new friends, they do conspire.
Whisper fanciful fancies and advice—
They have destroyed me thrice—
The blade against the skin, writes a soul’s desire.

                   Who are you?

Dressed in filigree of silver and ebony.
Death kisses the air—
I wear His mask to the fair—
The blade against the skin, I join the revelry.

                    Am I safe now?

Line Count: 21
*Paw* Initially Submitted to: Dark Dreamscapes Poetry Prompt: Picture prompt
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2248627-The-Masquerade