The masks I wear do not hide the stain.
It flaunts them for the public eye.
Holding deep with in the skin.
No matter their tint I do not cry.
Heavy is the weight I bear.
Light is my steps in the fire.
Heavy is not what meets the eye.
Because my burdens are more then just that ire.
Beyond the painted masks and heavy veils,
Lies a soul of passion and fire.
No matter the cover that weighs it down,
Nothing will ever extinguish that fire.
