Masks Whp-literature


Long, the roads of faith stare
Words sunk in logic, threaded bare
Truth is worn for tattered wear
Wear the fury, play the mask,
Where a lie is somehow truth in a sunken task
Unperturbed, the priory sing
Of chalice worn, and angels in wing
Such tales of fervor and glorious bling
Show man is man and nothing within
Than brutal brute and sin,
Unknown, the chatter speaks aloof
And love decays in simmering roof,
Man that knows sees no proof,
The game of youth clouds the sane reprieve,
Who knows what mad men can achieve?
I fear the man within the man and youth
The logic of crooked paths coming smooth,
For theirs is a world of pain and soothe
The war within is a missing cage,
I fear the man who knows his rage.
The preacher pauses on the altar still
Strong in hatred, flailing in will
Knowing that the gunman will his son kill,
Mocking his God all the way,
“A god that never comes” He daringly say
A constant repeat unwittingly lay
Die, live, repeat the way,
Faith drowns the questions we seek to pay
The right questions will kill you
When you’re alone in a darkened room
And the voices stare beneath your rage
What am I?
What was the world before I?
What is existence?
Am I just a scroll in a flipping sript?
Written till the pen fades!!
Where will the end of my existence be?
What is death?
The father kills a son for the growing tree,
The prior sacrifices his priory for the altar spree
The teacher hides the knowledge from a willful student
The doctor keeps the sickness in a jar
The soldier shoots the innocent man,
The leader loots the service of his men
And truth remains but not as it may seem
The darkest roads are mostly meek
For they carry the illusion of time
The clear roads seem steep,
For the truth is a glorious war
And we remain
Many masks of men
Never true
Ever few
What could I be?
What could you?


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