I hear them - the battle cries - from below.
I don the mask, under the covers I lay low.
Horrible shrieks that pillows can't block
The secrets we hide under key and lock.
Fake smiles plastered and all is well
Until the door slams then it's all back to hell.
YOU ARE READING
Landscape
PoetryYou only hinder yourself by concealing those feelings under a concrete mask. But remember, concrete cracks and I see your unmarred skin that's not tasted the flavour of living. You hide like a guilty thief. You steal away the experience so open y...
