The House On The Bend

The House On The Bend

They gracefully make their way through the masses of colourful people bustling about on the busy street,

Up the hill then around the corner, almost there, it's not very far until they meet.

Their mounting excitement worn on their porcelain white faces as they walk up the stairs,

Excitement of not knowing who might be next, the devilish schemes she prepares.

I watch them from my dark corner of the room, clustered together; they're watching me too,

Whispering, "I heard she needs rehab, maybe she needs a mask and she needs to be torn in two!”

I won't wear their masks, I won't be them, I won't live behind a lie, and I won't be dead inside,

There's a sudden hush as she appears, she turns to face me "Where is your mask?" she cried.

I'm down on bended knee, begging "Don't make me wear a lie, I'd rather die!”

Instantaneously the room starts to buzz with movement; she replies "I guess it's bye-bye!”

I have to escape, there has to be another way, it can't be that I'm at a dead end,

Don't listen to them, they're just voices in your head, they don't transcend,

I'm trapped inside my own prison; will I ever escape from the house in the bend?