Perfectly painted pink petals ,
well scrubbed two and thirty pearls.
Mask adorned with grease paint,
courting fame in a way, quaint.
Facing the arch-lights with a smile
with suppressed anger and rising bile.
In the silence of the night
with raging emotions, I fight.
Thirsty throat pale
swallow with Adam's ale
a bitter pill
sitting on the window sill.
I peel off the face-mask
face scrubbed bare
no soul to see or ask
immune , naked and without care.
For :Magpie Tales