A Misted Masquerade:



An aching domain in which turmoil boils,
A coiled pain of loss and anguish,
An unhealable wound cut deep,
A scar carried for eternity,
All in the silent scream,
A forlorn dream long lost and forever doomed,
A life never had and never to be seen,
With its loss felt too acutely to say,
All with a silent tear curving down a pale cheek,
Hidden in a smiling masquerade of happiness

Smiling faces and floating turns,
Ringing laughter and false merriment,
Hiding a saddened truth,
Those that appear happiest sit in a corner,
Weeping a loss they have never felt,
A world town away from a clinging grasp,
A quieted sigh as hope gives way,
A complete despair engulfs the weary child.

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I'm not sure its finished, infact I'm pretty sure its not. I know
the last line doesn't follow form and its not exactly brilliant but I
think its the threads of a fabric, just needs to be woven.
 
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