Proffering the pauper
Delicately dressed
As to adorn the poor
As one of the rich.
Elegantly arrayed for the dance,
With nothing but the eyes
Be seen.
Knowledge of the steps
Memories of the minute balls
None could fathom the form
I found as my face.
A phantom in plain sight.
Did any want to know
The broken behind the beauty?
I smile wonderfully
But lost my footing.
A little thing
Unless you knew
How many times
I have fallen.
As long as I
Annunciate the diction,
As long as I
Cover my face,
You won't know
The hell I can bring
To my own soul.
Remove the veil,
Reveal the facade.
There's more to the music
Than an angel's chord.
Beneath the mask
Bears the marks borne
From another's verbal hand.
Scars wrought in
Self-inflicted wounds
Disclose the hope
In status gained
By the world's symphony.
I succumbed to the hypnosis
Of the concerto. Shame
Found its pride when authenticity,
In the name of validity,
Was celebrated as intimacy.
Why did I prostrate my soul
Before an audience
Whose harmonies never satisfy?
Paper faces scorched;
A new Soliloquy sung:
I am known. Loved.
Whilst I dance with Him,
I am healed.
 |
| "Masquerade", Phantom of the Opera, 2005 |
