My face is a mask, Not the one that you see,
My face is a mask,
Not the one you need,
Its made of soft flesh not dark gentle skin
Its made of tired brown eyes.
Not green ones that stare within
My lips are chapped
My glance is a glare.
My eyes are weak
My voice is never clear
My Face is a mask
Not what you see here
Its a tiredly mess
Not what I wish to be.
On the inside my skin is clear
My lips are tasteful and sharp with threatens to wear
My teeth are fangs accepted and feared
My eyes are piercing the souls that they near
I`m proud and true with nothing to hide.
But on the outside I look like I died.
But....behind the gross flesh mask
I am merely a soul and nothing does last.
Maybe one day
All can see
What is a mask
what it should be.
"And the trees sparkled with rich twilight. As the blossoms flew through the air and the ground was covered with sunset due, When night waited for its mistress~"
