Across the room,
their eyes met—
pure, unveiled hatred.
In that nudity, no shame.
There I stood,
a mere spectator;
pity or loathing—
unsure of my feelings.
Emotional control absent—
unfit for society.
Yet, in the night,
drifting into sleep,
my mind rebelled:
they were honest, unafraid,
in showing what they felt.
When last did I find
the courage to show
what I feel?
And the ghosts crowded,
danced and chanted—
“Hypocritical Evil or honest Devil,
what do you want to be?”