The Masquerade Ball


Every person is clothed in beautiful, colorful fabrics,

But is it their true value that shows

When they dance to the tune that society chose?

I hide behind my mask as the time ticks.

Only the comfort of my loved ones can fix

Because they are the only people who know

When my outgoing, weird nature shows.

Because they aren't my critics

Who judges by my skinny appearance,

Who throws sticks and stones

As I listen to my own rhythm and awkwardly dance,

Whose words dig deep into my bones,

Who only gives me a side glance,

Who tries to turn everyone into their perfect clones.

Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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