MASQUERADE

 "The night has come to collect its due

Intense pain, leaving me achingly blue

This charade of smiles is all untrue


Isn't my life the perfect 'pretend'

Look from the surface, aren't their roses so red

Come closer, do you find thorns that made me bled


The scars that left my skin green

Are hard to find, they're covered with a vibrant sheen

Disguising it like a flawless damaskeen


Acting all strong with all my might

I see a cemetery and people dressed in white

And again pretend things aren't as bad as I seem to find"

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