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Masquerade
December 11, 2014
White walls.
Black ceiling.
Red floors.
White scars,
Black souls,
Red pain.
Darkness is not without light,
But rather emptiness devouring it.
Never hungry and never full.
Hatred,
Is not absent of love
It is love that makes me hate.
I am not insane.
I am not sane.
Neither are you.
The mask of perfection,
Underlined by black and blue.
The scars left by my love of you.
© Victoria W., Arcadia, CA
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