The Masquerade

Betwixt the broken clay I stood and grinned
The air grew thicker as my smile thinned

Dashed fonts and cold vases all strewn around;
A dead dance floor billowing with waning sound

What glorious music the band did play
Before a hack saw took their lives away

And the opera singer, with glory grand
I now hold onto both her heart and hand

Our portly hostess, oh so wise and gruff
Her countenance, I think, was just enough

To fill out all the guests before the dance
I ate a little, did you have a chance?

If any did it matters not, you see
I slayed them all in my sadistic glee

Which was no more until night drew in
Bringing out in me a strange will to sin

A butter knife here, a wine corker there
Tearing through blood-stained off-white underwear

And confections, yes! Did you have a piece?
It was the magician’s favorite niece!

She wore her hair up in pretty blond bows
That I discarded swift, with eyes and nose

That saw me carve apart the butler’s neck
And smelled the handmaids cook like pigs in heck

A grand evening of wining and dining
That ended well with whining and dying

But the queen’s daughter, who should have been dead
I whisked her away, and dressed her for bed

She smiled at me and spoke out quite coy
“What of my mother, sir? Did she enjoy?”

I handed her the tongue, she took a bite,
I gave her a kiss, and she said good night.

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