Perfect Illusion

I put on my mask. No one can see. No one can know. No one knows my face. I can't let the darkness show. The only me they see is painted on a canvas. An illustration with hopes that life will imitate art. Elegant and poised. No one will ever know. No one will ever see. I walk perfectly as the smoke and mirrors hide the demons only I can see. I step on the stage and do what I do best, act. A perfect performance. A character that comes to life. Scripted and sculpted. Full of grace yet he has that swagger that the person under the mask has misplaced. The finale comes. A dance across the stage. The end is near. The orchestra's melody flows into a decrescendo. The violins stop whining. The flutes stop crying. It's over. The show is finished. I can retreat to safety as the demons call my name. Wait! I have to bow. Gasps loom for the audience as the perfectly molded mask shatters. The scars exposed. Down under is the only way to go. Trap doors operated by my demons give way to a black hole the never ends m. A black hole as black as the soul within.