Woman of mystery
Writes her own history
Chooses what she’s sharing
Circumspect or daring
Changes her masks, one after another
Each designed and made to smother
So she can bury her emotions deep
Under each mask to keep
Anyone from seeing her true face
And each line you could trace
With your finger the pain and grief
Etching her misery

©Paris Poems 2015

2 thoughts on “~Smother~

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