The Mask

Existing in the realm of its own true hell,
the pacing of the parasite begins to swell.
It suffers in silence, yet demands to be heard.
It will never survive without its bevy of words.

As an infant, it fed on what it desired
and the need to grow was quickly retired.
It donned a mask it had soon acquired
and eventually dressed in regal attire.

I am! I am! It said aloud
while hiding behind a glistening shroud.
To none it wavered, to none it bowed.
Worthy am I! It heartily vowed.

As a thief of hearts, it sought our souls
and refused to acknowledge the unspeakable tolls.
It relished our pain, our faults, and our woes,
acted as friend, yet lived as foe.

For the lower we were, the higher its rise,
sometimes nestled on pillows, feathered with lies.
Soaring as an eagle, through bright blue skies,
impeding the light from watchful eyes.

It changed lies to belief and that belief to admiration.
it became its own form of revered celebration,
though to those who saw through the garish decoration,
it was nothing more than sheer abomination.

these were few who could actually see
how sad and sickened this thing could be.
they lost their battles to make it flee
as it wiggled in joy and laughed with glee.

And a new found strength was gained from the seers.
They found it flaunting in front of its peers,
for this mask was now learned and it shed false tears,
and a victim was born, its path, though not cleared.

For as day turns to night, conflicts persist.
The heart can grow cold, but the soul still resist.
New defenders of truths will continue to enlist,
and the spirit of God will always assist.

Yes a fight ensued, yet the beast stood tall
and flashed its lies, fooling most all.
It cried poor me, and with such great gall
it is I who has suffered! was its deceptive call.

The truths presented the stern manipulations,
the deeds that were done with much stipulation,
the lies that served, as mere stimulations
and these they hoped were condemning revelations.

The mask took form and revealed a child,
the innocence of eyes that appeared softly wild.
No sign of his pride, no sign of the vile.
How dare the "truths" accuse him of guile.

Hearts' blood flowed, and non-seers cried
as the villagers witnessed a man so tried,
a man who was beaten, and his humanity denied,
a man who was not evil but sanctified!

The steel once hot, now cooled to strength.
It enveloped his soul and his body at length.
The blood of hearts, flowing in sync,
protected him now from morality's links.

Alas truth lost, but so did the beast,
for a cancer did grow, and on lies it did feast.
From within his throat, it locked in its feet
and his mask is now meeting a deadly defeat.

Existing in the realm of its own true hell,
the pacing of the parasite begins to swell.
It suffers in silence yet demands to be heard.
It will never survive without its bevy of words.