Alone I sit and alone I stand,
As I stare blindly across the land.
A harpy cries and the bitter wind roars.
I move in a trance, pace the wooden floors.
I run to the sound of the wailing wolf call,
Dancing in shadows of the Masquerade Ball.
Twisting and turning I finish the task,
And whirling defiantly, I rip off the mask.
My face lifts to madness, caught in its claws.
Once fingers grope for moonlight, suddenly paws.
An ache deep within, a banshees dead wail,
My wit and intelligence now sadly fail.
Humanity sparks and the beast dies without,
The howl of the wolf becoming a desperate shout.
Pained tears now flowing, from sources deep within.
The animal inside somehow seems like a sin.
And the mask becomes my face one time more.
The beast slips away to the dark deadly core.
Porceline painted, delicate cover,
Cradles my face like the hands of a lover.
Red glows my eyes when I think to be free,
Though the mask proclaims innocence for all to see.
My hands twist the noose tighter behind my back,
And the demons inside wait to signal attack.
The porceline smiles, childlike, unaware.
A dainty yellow ribbon curling down like hair.
Behind the painted ruby lips my own dark smile glows.
The evil held behind the mask into the shadow flows.
A childish giggle, my jagged hand slashes skin,
Slashing the throat of sunshine, rusty claws digging in.
A crucifixion of the light so masks can be undone.
Shattered on the ground lies mine, now begins the fun.
Melissa Hardie