Posing for truth,

While their life speaks a lie.

What are you thinking,

Why do I even try?

On their pedestal,

Above the world so high.

Looking down on us all,

While they watch us pass by.

How mighty they look,

How regal they stand.

Don’t get too close,

They’ll get blood on their hands.

They masquerade,

For all the world to see.

Their glass house is pretty,

Imposters, are we?

We tell the world,

How “fine” we are.

The masks we wear,

Hide every scar.

And the ones who walk,

The road we traveled.

Have yet to notice,

We’ve come unraveled.

Those people who care,

Who said “you’re not alone.”

Well, they’re the faithful,

Who cast the first stone.

©2023 Marsha L. Brown