An old mask you gave me long ago.
One made from a splintering wood.
The color a dark, rotting brown.
No smile carved onto its face.
How I longed to see it smile.
I took my knife and created a grin.
One that resembled your own.
A crafty smile with a little taste.
I wore it to sleep every night.
Each night I wondered how you dreamed.
If a nightmare fell, I would endure.
If dreaming sweetly, I could feel.
I came knocking at your door.
Desiring to show you the mask's lovely grin.
The door was locked to keep me away.
I begged and cried to see your face.
A tear of sadness touched the mask.
Behind the tear, anger did follow.
I removed the mask which you gave me.
I decided to finally erase the grin.
Taking the knife from within my pocket,
I struck hard at the rotting wood.
You writhed and screamed from within your home.
No boundery would secure you from me.
I took another stab at the mask's forehead.
The pain and suffering suddenly ceased.
I no longer needed the mask you gave.
Placing it on your step, I walked away.
From beyond the door of your home.
From beyond what kept you safe and sound.
Your body lies dead, your face carved away.
The grin has forever been washed away.