Rapt and raw we scream and moan,
When dragged along the path,
To atone, all alone,
For cultivating wrath,
A mask upon a mask is nailed,
Smothered so it doesn’t move,
We swap it solely for the shroud,
We wear when kissed by death’s reprove,
In this husk we aptly hide,
Nourished by the kernel,
Unbeknown that we abide,
Beneath the beast infernal,
Verily I sympathise, it’s hard to shed the mask,
Albeit is a noble cause to undertake this task.