Mask

Mask of green, hidden in dreams

Bearing the fangs in a bearish grin

Sew leaves of fig, with iron spades dig

To hide all the darkness within

Burn off the lace, tear-away face

Cut all down to the bone

On mountains high and cities nigh

Am I in a crowd: alone

Anoint the witches, rip out the stitches

How much more can you ask?

Rip off one, you've only begun

Behind it hides another mask

Toss it down, off to the ground

Let no mask remain whole

Where is the end, behind all my sin

Or did I throw away my soul?

Patrick W. Crocker ©