- what's behind the mask -

I am made of wax,
but I tend to forget,
until the hand of a friend
touches a teardrop on my cheek
and sees it harden
on the tip of her finger.

Like a candle,
consumed from within,
tormented by the wind,
my life melts away
and I weep wax.

No one will stop
the inevitable process;
an audience never acts human,
passive people sit like dummies,
fascinated by the fire.

I thought that life was fair,
enough for me to trust - once more -
the promise of love,
until I watched it turn
into the biggest, dripping lie.

Unconditional - I was told -
yet I was presented a bill
and, in a state of shock,
I was stabbed, more than once
by a butcher with velvet gloves.

My back was crushed
but my face, still intact.
So, somebody made a wax cast
and used it for my death mask.

My new face looks so real,
that no one could tell,
although, behind the mask of death,
please learn, there is nothing left.

I guess my soul found a safer place to hide.