He likes living the quiet life,
tends to keep himself to himself.
Stores faces in green glass jars
kept high on a dark basement shelf.
Emotions each are a mystery
but masks he wears so well.
Has learned a smile can conceal
an inner vision of Hell.
One face happy, another face sad
and a few faces full of fear.
Can you feel his breath upon your neck,
detect danger as he draws near?
His visage still seems so tempting;
handsome with white sparkly teeth.
Enchanting exteriors may help hide
the Demons dwelling beneath.
Perhaps someday he’ll woo you,
will take you by the hand.
You may even swear you love him;
he’ll never truly understand.
He’ll take you down a pretty path
to a rather romantic, secluded spot.
The sun shall shine down on you,
the day’s forecast bright & hot.
He had always seemed so patient.
You’d talk and he would listen.
Yet under that sweet sunny sky,
scalpel in his hand will glisten.
He told you you had a fine face,
that he loved you just as you are.
Now he’ll treasure that trophy tenderly,
placed preserved in a green glass jar.
Copyright © 2016 Philip Craddock. All rights reserved.