Pass me by
You fleeting gaze
My evil I
Seventh Mask
My plastique
Face
A cut across
All flesh will
Follow fire
My mouth is full
But body bloody —
Starved
Like a bird
On a wire
Chime in the
Wind
Guiltily staying
Reluctantly swaying
The world
It has two
Icy eyes
To close
Too late
Upon the night
A glove
Or shoe –
A gentle
Word
Will make
It right.