The Ballroom

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