Painted the color of demure every hair in place
Not a shadow astir, not a crack on his face
Time drips through crevices in patience's ceiling
It erodes a calm facade of paint that's peeling
A face under a mask, covered scars on a wall
Crumbling casque, seconds till the fall
A drooping lip, no light seen through shades
The vizard does slip as the wall degrades
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Author:
sorenbarrett (
Online) - Published: September 17th, 2026 03:47
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Online)
Comments1
the cracked masks that we wear
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