Sub-Zero Masquerade
The game is in the fingers of the puppeteer
Burn through the oceans and drown in the flame;
Dance on the edge of insincerity while swallowing the blame.
She kisses the world with tenderness and it uses her for her beauty.
Some call her sublime, others say majestic - disregarding what they say, she longs for their sincerity.
Over and over the players disguise themselves in the game,
Swallowing their fake love, it burns her throat until she can barely say her name.
Breaking through her walls of ice with strategy as they perform their charade.
Time freezes her heart to escape their sub-zero masquerade.
Humanity burns her soul while she cries an ocean of tears.
Drowned in hope her flame perseveres, but what hope does she have in a world of puppeteers?
JX
About the Creator
Jollyoddbod Poetry
Here I am, and here I'll stay;
Like the moon in the darkness that refuses to fade.
Clouds will cover, but cannot take from my reign;
Mark this as the moment that they realise, as they scoff with distain.
They fell asleep, I cannot be blamed.
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