They are everywhere, the mask. 

They make me want to scream, but he loves

them. He said he'd keep me safe from the mask

he lied, even though

he looks at me with

soft eyes, his body does something completely different. Mask

comes right up to my face and through the mask I see a moon face. 

I look back at him, he gives me an expression, a glower.

He puts the mask on, then looks at me. Here

his face motions to his hand, a mask.

He brings it up to my face and I look through the mask.

People look happy, I feel the crack of the mask on my cheek. It

bring in the air, and a man, with a mask full of wasps.

He grabs me, and him too. He puts me

in his lap and he sits down, listening to the music

I look down and find a mask on the ground, the man picks the mask

up and puts it on me, through the little-cracked holes I can still see the night.

This poem is about: 


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