I think we all fall prey to those behind the masks that allow us to only see shades of their hidden ugliness.



A handful, they breathe easy,

Having retired from puppetry days.

Time in seclusion has birthed rediscovery,

And they are deceived no more by these shades.

They have few to call friends,

Naivety once pinned them down as accessories

And what was their reward for benevolence?

Made to be doormats by these shades.

Money nixed the vanishing acts

And come see those who texted at curiosity’s peak

To divulge, back-stab and cyber attack.

The shades had left them as withering fig trees.

There were the types to put out thumb emojis,

But in person give you the elbow.

Glory! The handful have seen the hypocrites,

The shades that had put on a show.

Insecurities played out by shades to guilt trip fellows

Then they emerged bipolar and acted like all was well.

But the handful had not the luxury of many tomorrows

The shades they had to let go, and their nuisance along to quell.

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