Masks

We all have skeletons in our closet
Some wear many masks
We all tuck lies in our pocket
With questions never asked
If any were to audit
They’d see plenty had been tasked
It would hit you like a rocket
The truth would come so fast
And it is as loud as a trumpet
Truth will feel harassed
A sinner of mistruth or a prophet
The unknown is so vast
If only he hadn’t known it
Our love might have last

© Delia Ross. 2019

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