count to ten
close your eyes
keep a few seconds stolen
open them
you’re in a crowded ballroom
hundreds of thousands; dancing
filled with light but full of gloom
back and forth, back and forth they go
pretty they are but not elegant
this they know
for they wear masks of powder and perfume
but their riches can't replace certainty
within this crowded room
they're tripping over another's shoes
lost within themselves
their self-abuse
on they go, on they go
these people are queer
the silks and laces are fine
but their skin—red and blistered it is
tear stained, bloodied, bruised; imperfection of every kind
feebly covered
but you can't hide truth
at the ceiling it still hovers
cannot take it from this ballroom
they scream words with no meaning
and fill laughs with no humor
walking without destination
some hide behind curtains
trying to disappear
others just laugh and talk to loudly
a show they've performed in the mirror
there used to be people of truth
but one by one they left
we don't know where they went
society has been charged of the theft
to survive this world, you have a choice
hide
or pretend
either is treason at the close
but please, I warn you
the ballroom always knows
