*

Masks are a fool's game,
put away false pretenses; pull down shame.
hearts of fired will,
you aren't one of needed rescuing dames,
painted water distilled,
straddle up luck for incoming games,

no one wins lying upon back,
depression latching on skin slack,
defend ourself with an aggressive open palm smack,
give those chemical shifters a grande ole thwack -
bruise them... whom intentionally turn worlds black;

I've grown blase' of those that do not know of it -
the mind of a few... occasionally do inadvertently split,

yet,
those souls hold instruments capable to outwit,
a determination to remit
&
caliber in piecing back together... serrated edges to refit.