It masks the sadness,
stuffing it into crevices
but it is always there dancing with intracate masks
and as the happiness is retreating,
it feels like our time is fleeting and it attacks
revealing that it dosen't go away
it is hidden, forgotten in fumbling hands
no matter how strong we stand we are torn
seperated by miles, minutes, and hours
trying to stretch our love to cover the inches
but the distance is thinning and
the misery is winning
without the constant supervision
that can't be provided
I need a map,
to guide me through the masquerade
or a way to permanently
cloak the pain.
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