I saw the best visions of my generation mask themselves

endlessly everyday,
constantly deterred by a lie that we must breathe as one,

look as one, change as one.
Winsome friends that want to die, convinced the

Inability to meld deserves ultimate darkness.
Destroyed by those believing the destruction of

others will raise them higher.
Rare, eclipsing minds alone, alone all day and night.
Masked by paint and costumes, unfamiliar and uninviting,

to hide their natural unmarked skin.
Masked by fear to be loud, afraid an unwelcome

shout will be met with haunting silence.
Masked by the lie they prefer the façade, that they are

happier cloned and obscenely vague.
Masked by judgment from those who sculpted this

deception, the horrific sheep who helped the butcher.
Masked by hope, fleeting but alive, that to grow as grass now,

will help them survive into a time that welcomes flowers.
Masked by trending horror, that they are not worthy.

Should be altered, destroyed.
Masked by paranoia. Each whisper, giggle, glance, is a bullet,

bull’s-eye, piercing hard, killing the sheep out of line.
Masked by dreams of happier existences, stopping at

no end to reach that sun.
Masked by tattooed armor, painful to don, tortuous to destroy.