Masked-Ball Musings

Centre stage where I belong, am I not a vision?
A harlot's loss of sanity - the ultimate exhibition!
Turn your jaded eyes to me, O illustrious audience
Behold my lurid masquerade, my mimicked confidence
A flourish of my hands, and lo! I set the foolish scene
Veins of glitter mask the moth-wing frailty of our dreams
The tuneless minstrel dangles from a web of cabaret
But what a spider! Such grim humour fuels this manic fray!
A bloated sadist God has cruelly trapped me in this mesh
Unseen strings sinking like thorns into my puppet flesh
And so the opera lurches on, for the insane bourgeoisie
I dance as though possessed tonight, each face intent on me
I imitate a worthy soul, feign to adore these men
A flock of inbred lunatics, beguiled by me again
Gaudy lips of scarlet blood, shaping unspoken jeers
Broken eyes like starless skies, concealing absent tears
I'm a harlot and a faerie Queen, both harlequin and witch
Verily I am yours, my Lord; sculpt me as you wish!
A facade scrawled upon my face, your heart's desire portrayed
My soul ensnared in a pot of rouge - who shall I be today?
It's a stilted melodrama, although some do name it 'life'
My wounds are only make-believe - twist in the plastic knife!
Deep down I simply long to fade, to fall from your cold vision
Cast screaming from the precipice, the cliff of recognition
Tear me from this fallen stage, this ice-filled sea of sharks
Though stripped of scrutiny I'm merely faceless in the dark
But better that than servitude, this ludicrous parade
This parody, this travesty, this comedy of fate
Farewell my ghoulish entourage, I retreat into my mind
Forsake so-called reality, and leave the world behind.