The peacemakers’ war is never won
Setting aside their emotions,
They hide behind glossy eyes
And lie that they simply had an itch, or a speck of dust found its why upon it..
They’ve become masters at covering up,
When pain or disappointments come from ones deeply loved,
It burns hotter and stronger than a hand to a kettle..
But they say their cold, and wear gloves to cover their burns..
Their masks become more and more apart of their appearance
Their true beauty laid aside.
For hiding is easier then confronting.. Or is it?
Pretending everything is ok..
Because harmony is sweeter than discord,
And they will keep their feelings locked away and swallow the key,
To preserve that “harmony”
But what is truly harmony when their sick in agony?
Does any of it actually make it better?
The peacemaker naively continues to believe so.