By Calypso
Date: 5 April 2000
Mask
You wear a mask
A crooked paper thing
That slips when you sweat.
It harrows my senses
As your mind slowly dances.
I feel a chill
As you strike the match
And we watch it burn down
Watch - the mask turns to ashes.
We've given it three chances.
Now the flame burns out.
Back to the Heart-on-Sleeve Corner