Poetry

Mask

They grimace behind their mask —
amalgamated, inseparable,
like serpents unable
to shed their skin.
Narcissists —
egos rage like a tempest,
cold as carp without eyelids;
their soul pickled and embalmed
in venom, barren, ascending
pinnacles of their heart.
Manipulators —
intentions twisted;
coiled like a ram’s horn.
Tongues loiter; stammering
in absence of integrity,
trapped in the stench
of their own breath —
they consume their
prey with a side
of entitlement
while it worms
its way through
their hollow selves.

© Literary Remains

15 thoughts on “Mask”

  1. Very well written as always. This is also very familiar to me, although my experience has lead me into nasty encounters with Psychopaths. Extremely close in nature and perhaps are also narcissistic.They can eat you alive and thoroughly enjoy the meal. Very well done! Thank you for reminding me.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Wonderful. You are so good with words!

    Your poetry is so illustrious and regal! Thank you for the recent likes on some of my work. It’s truly humbling as I read your words!

    Liked by 1 person

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