Poetry

The Maker's Mask

The world might appreciate me, but it's a secret.
Taboo might appreciate me, but it's a secret.

A noble knight in the night? Masked.
A pimp in all might? Masked.

So far it's been free of cost.
But in the end I fear, I might be lost.

Do I?

I'm afraid the knight demands a price,
Let alone, the harlot across the ice.

At the least, my life. Eventually.

Brands are free, easily availed
Knight or pervert is a game, the most avert.

Jobless hypocrites waiting for the knight.
Beware, the job is addictive. Touch wood.

Secrets are meant to be revealed.
Only when the above appeal.

Do carry on, yet wear a mask with might.
Only until the dawn, not tonight.

Be it either pole, justify the equatorial mask.
Never surmise, else cherish the hypocritical casked.

Dare to?

You can't be both at once, you aren't that good
They're extreme poles.
All at once, and you'll fall for good.
They're deep holes.

Yet again, you're welcome to.
Don’t be the oblivious coward…