The Dying Lie

My face
Leaves no trace
Of the masked displace
Of my disgrace
That invites
But not insights
The terrifying delights
Of the monster that bites
Through the skin and into the daylights
That shine onto my smile in unforgettably bright
Tears of admiration for my destructive mistakes that always like
An eternal absence of the subsiding figures in the midst of their cries
Who all scream the selfish joy regarding superiority of unforgettable lies
That all bind me and twist my tongue with knots which ignite the ties
Which held me close to the post to scream above the fiery nights
Who flame my dress and skin, crumbling and melting the frights
Of my living soul into the endless blackening, smoking skies
Forever drifting with eternity lifting the curiosity of his eyes
Burning my papery soul to ashes that glide with the Rytes
Of the torturers and maniacs that the devil himself pries
Further with his pointy finger downward to crystallize
Their flesh and bone with disease and plague flies
That swarm around the deformed forms now fried
With smoke blanketing up with a demons flight
Into the air and out of sight.