do you hear those bones a rattlin?
There’s no rat in the rafters
squeaking happily ever afters ,
that’s the chatter of the skeletons tattlin.
Whispering of light that splinters the night
revealing intended deception.
Both faces in the mirror
exposing traces of shrouded fear
to those swayed in the wrong direction.
So let me ask, without your mask,
can you recognize your own reflection?
Is it the angel that you profess
or the demons that you’ve undressed
that direct your duplicitous intentions?
Art credit: Robert Connett found at dippity.com