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Blindfold
Wednesday, April 22nd, 2009You are one masquerade I’ve longed for years,
and I wear my glittering feathered mask, barefooted.
I will not mind the exploitables, because
murdering the literals softly, indeed, is loveliest every day.
I will not mind, because I know my mask is securely tied
at the back of my head; at the back of my mind, a knot hard.
I grin, then I live; no smirks, nor smugs ahead.
I am masked, and I dance in a game the world likes to play.
I am invited, so I attend
to this masquerade called Facebook.



