#imscared game

The Mask of Quiet

A poem by Dove Heartling

And woe, there I lay, on my mattress, in my room

The darkness suffocating, feels like an empty tomb

Engraved in the stone says, "Here Lies The Curious Wanderer,"

"Who dared to enter the Deceptive Phantom's lair."

There, in the vantablack of the mirror

Through a hole in the wall, light makes it clearer

A pair of eyes stares at me from the inky black the reflection holds

A tarnished heart, once made of white gold

Karma collects its debt

My heart pounds in my chest

As a hand of pixeled white phases through the glass and holds the side to steady itself.

Another follows, and then...

The sources angry glare meets my eyes

A smile forms on itself and I feel my lies

They crawl on my back and situate themselves on my shoulders

The eye of the beholder

It leans down at my bedside

It reaches its hands behind

And forces its mask onto my face.

And then, I am no more.

My last thought is, "I'm so sorry,"