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We all go through life like masked Phantoms,
keeping parts of our faces hidden and obscured
while showing only what we want the world to see,
which is often more of lies and less of truth.

Our bodies are draped in great billowing cloaks
that cover the numerous wounds, stains and scars
we have collected during our nightly travels,
on the roads we should not have taken,
for none who enter this life innocent and whole
will leave it unscathed and unmarked.

Some of us have much to hide,
and some of us have little to hide.
But all of us have something to hide.

And while we keep our own masks on tight,
and our cloaks wrapped about us firmly,
we try to pick and poke at those of our fellow men,
trying to see if their wounds are graver then ours,
hoping that their secrets are darker then ours.

We would rip off their masks and tear away their cloaks,
strip them down bare and make their shames, sins, and fears
objects for our gossip, for our mockery, for our contempt,
and, most impotently of all, for our distraction.

We all want to know the secrets and truths of the world,
but none of us want the world to know our secrets and truths.
So we become Phantoms during our brief hour upon the stage,
masked & cloaked, concealing the dark labyrinths of our hearts.


- (C) by Sloane J. 2009