Smoke Screen
I stand, proud,
Surrounded by the shambles of my glass house.
Glinting off the splinters,
I glimpse the reflection of my mask,
Hovering on the surface -
So thin,
So feeble.
I wonder how they miss
The signs and signals,
The red flags,
The white flags
Fluttering in my eyes.
But how can they?
With my concealer
Packed onto my face
And their labels plastered around my waist,
They can’t see past my camouflage.
Gender:
Points: 1764
Reviews: 84