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Challenge of the Month XXXIX
Write a short poem about your own private Hell. The tortured who reigns gets 100 big ones. Winner will be picked by Prose. Go.
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FoolsAxiom

Saving Face

I have fallen from grace

And now I'm tumbling into a crippling chasm

I had forgotten to pay Life her due ransom

So now I surrender, letting the Devil give chase

Transforming my false smile into real grimace

And now only devils see me now

They gaze at my terrible show

A theatre of actors who share the same stage

But Comedy and Tragedy look away

There is no beauty, only a hopeless gray

The choir from behind the curtain

Begins to sing a horrible tune of sin

A cavalcade of nonsensical rhymes

Cacophonies of well-intentioned lies

That never seemed to bear any fruit, only flies

Desperate wanderers who bear witness

Show me a glimpse of my bygone business

A malleable mess that used a thousand masks

My reflection revolts, shuddering, it asks

"When will it stop? When is the final act?"

And I try to answer back in turn

But like a lover who only gets burned

My throat starts to ache, and words start to fail

Thus, I start to lie, and my reflection begins to bail

Knowing that my being already had had its final nail

And so I lie there in the dark, with unfit eyes

Inside a tomb made up of deceit and lies

Surrounded by formless faces and disgrace

I surrender myself, knowing my rightful fate

Knowing that I was but a dream, a mimic, a trace