You Must, surely, be Intoxicated

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Pull... back the curtain?
What type of blasphemy is this?
How dare you,
Who know me so little tell me to remove my mask!
How little could you know,
How little DO you know if you could make such a request?

 

To reveal my secrets is to let the wax of my knotted wings melt.
It is to let me fall into the cold abyss below,
With its inky stream of goop and blades of paper.
So harmless is one paper cut, yet so fatal be a thousand.

 

These words inspire my pain,
My grief,
And my rage.
If my mask be indeed once removed,
Even once,
I shall drown in the sorrows of my labor;
I shall have nothing to keep me afloat
Nor have any to come and look for me.
I shall drown.
I shall drown.

 

Whoever came up with that stupid saying:
Sticks and stones may break my bones,
But words will never hurt me,
Was clearly and obviously intoxicated. 

Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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