Behind the Mask


Still so predictable
Playing the same game
Alias number three
Am I the only one

Who sees?

As if images alone
Didn’t give him away
The same old shit
Worn out style

Not even about them
Couldn’t care less
Just needing to be there
Lurking in shadows

Spewing his shit
Hoping for a word
Praise and thanks
Pretending to be

Someone he’s not

Ah, but he is
The same fucking fuck
Sneaking and hiding
Ducking and running

His karmic retribution
Unable to hide
Ever from himself
Or the likes of me

Cut here, you say…
As if that wrist
I wouldn’t know

That, my dear
Would be my
Greatest pleasure!

©2013 jill terry

Published by jill

Riding the current of life's changing tides, while capturing my journey in images and words...

One thought on “Behind the Mask

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