Façades

At the Masquerade Ball
we wear a disguise.
showing the world the face we prefer.
peddling our wares before wondering eyes.

Doctors, lawyer, drunkards, tramps.
teachers, preachers, artists, scamps.
From noble born to lowly birth.
we're all in attendance upon this Earth.

The fête continues 'til The Reaper calls
and halts the ticking clock on the wall,
revealing the equally bony grin
of the mask that's buried deep within.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/9rrxds/all_things_considered/ . . https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/9rxtnu/let_there_be_a_storm/