Inspired by a poem courtesy of my (much) younger self.

You wear your Mask and I, mine,

But who is lying to whom?

The silver-hued glass

Foretells my doom.

My mask was useless, in the end,

Mere dregs of the darkness within.

That same night blossomed bright with stars,

Yet they still found our love a sin.

Tautologies of Demons fill my bed,

Each one a grinning mouth on a sanguine, sightless head.