Written by Lynn White
They slaughtered them
in the name of God
their god,
though any god
would do
and now
their masks weep
tears of blood
it drips from their eyes,
like it dripped from their swords
in red ruby like splashes
as the bleeding began again,
then black
like coal
as decay started
and the masks
begin to crack,
to distort
and disintegrate,
to flake away,
to disappear
as all masks will
in the end
until only
the tears
remain.
Text © Lynn White
*
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