There’s a mask that everyone wears
To shield who they really are inside
To hide ugly scars and bury fear
So none will know of his inner strife
There was a nervous man
He had a violently palpitating heart
It bangs on his ivory labyrinth of ribs
He takes his mask, state-of-the-art
A bead of sweat gathers on his lip
He knows not of what this demands
He was asked to sit in a dim lit place
Streaks of hot glue outlined his face
It felt as if a hundred wasps had stung
Crimson streams poured from the orifice
As now upon it, a mask has hung.
He joins a crowd who resemble him
And opens parched lips to sing a hymn
But he finds out something very soon
He can no longer sing the tune
The incognito has dominated his soul
It has sucked up every bit of life
He has become a bottomless hole.
The mask worsened his strife instead
In despair, he rips off the cover
Unleashing the flood of the painful past
From his mind bloomed an opulent red flower
A firework of vermillion burst
Through his struggle, he is deeply hurt.

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Emily Liang

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Semi-sweet and a little nutty. Introverted, socially awkward, but still easy-going and loves penning short legacies in poetry. Big on all things red, and passionate about music. Down-to-earth and enjoys short walks in mother nature's embrace. Smile people, today's going to be a great day. Try stuff you've never tried, go places, venture abroad and live a life you will remember.
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3 Comments on "Holopause"

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Lakshmy Menon Chatterjee

Very nicely penned! A little dark, but good imagery…


Wonderful imagery ! Good diction.