Illustration by Poet Rummager
I take off my mask
and touch the wounds in my soul.
Light shines through the holes.
Pain now transparent,
I see varied shades of red.
Bleeding is widespread.
Blood pools on the floor.
I slip and fall to my knees.
Forgive me, I plead.
People I’ve broken
gather around and mock me.
They have no pity.
They fuse mask to skin.
There’s no escaping my pain.
It’s now trapped within.
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In the Comments Section, write a Micro-poem or Micro-Story using the prompt word “mask”
OR
Complete this scenario with a poem or story:
A masked maniac raises a rusted machete—the carnivorous edge eclipses the silver cratered world—while two campers squirm inside a sleeping bag.
…What happens next? Well…that’s up to you!
Fabulous Blog Event Writers
1. Oh, the pain…
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