Marble ballrooms waited lifelessly alongside its marionettes
Without strings.
Standing tall as chess pieces, silence drenched silhouettes
Yearned to swing.
 
They know they can’t dance without conceal.
They can’t move without the consciousness of being observed.
 
Cold silver masks
Hang in their hands.
 
However, these statues are nerved.
They know for whom the bell tolls:
For the face that lies behind.
For the beauty of saw-dust dolls.
 
Smooth stone noses serve as the cradle
For the perfect lie.
Joints un-petrify as bathed in rain of maple.
Chandeliers come to life.
Then, the first step.
Muffled by light.
 
A thousand nights at the opera ahead
‘Twas the curtain call
For the biggest masquerade of all.
Friend, we all got broken hearts to mend,
So lead and sway.
 
In this masquerade,
Where all one day must die,
We wink, twist and fall,
We cheat, pose and hope,
Embodied in satin, silk and wool.
 
In the frenzy, no one will see us cry.
We run across the fire, we pull,
We glide across dense water
In the sharp edges of the border.
 
Crystal, damask, stone, wood,
Paper, plastic, diamond, fur,
The material of the mask is our choosing,
As well as the self-shard we’re losing.
 
In this gloomy ballet,
Our trail is the face behind this lie.
And when we stop,
There will be nothing to take off.
We’re our own predator and prey:
The stitches, the carcass grey.
Dancing on tip toes also leaves a trough.
The dancefloor is also a jury, also betrays.
 
Friend, in this masquerade
We all got broken hearts to mend.
We’re no longer statues, is worse:
We’re smoke and mirrors.
We are childhood heroes.
Our own protection it’s our curse.
 
‘Tis is like faerie circles: once in, there’s no turning back.
Your frozen heart, thawed in ditched gazes, will be your track.
 
A thousand nights at the opera, ahead.
In this masquerade, we all got broken hearts to mend.
So lead and sway.