The Party bursts with laughter,

As sweet playful music fills the hall.

Wind rushes past my ears,

As I twirl without any fears.

 

While twisting and turning,

I see devils and angels,

Queens and Kings...

I see the puppets under the strings.

 

Figures blur from sight,

And the music slows.

Their faces are not faces.

These places are not places.

 

Beyond the noxious music,

Their laughter is tears,

And their faces are cages.

The party is on stages.

 

As I land still from my dance,

A silver mirror faces me.

The reflection shows a face,

But a face that is not a face.

 

A blank canvas white as stone,

And a crude smile is ripped across.

Jagged edges with pain so deep,

A reflection of all the lies we keep.