My Mask of Madness

Dungeons so deep below …

My Mask of Madness

My Mask of Madness

By the dark of night
I’m taken over water
to dungeons so deep
below to feed
on moldy bread and
putrid water being
sipped by rats who
scavenge my prison
floor lurking in the
shadows waiting for
their chance to feed
upon my open sores.

My fate is sealed hidden
and masked in iron
to cover up my pain
and never allow
me to see
again the light
of day.

I feel my loss that
cuts to my very
hiding behind
this mask
my thoughts
and hopes for
freedom dashed
forever more.

From this
awful place
I want to fly on wind
so free like an
albatross to
the open sea.

Dazed I walk my
prison cell with
heavy soul
each painful step the
Iron mask squeezes me into
slow but certain madness
only to be dragged back
from whence I came
shackled to my aching heart.

Falling to the floor
so cold and shivering
deep cries and even fits
of laughter gurgle from
my swollen throat and
laugh back at my
broken spirit yet not
my will to live.

I weep for
want of solace only felt
by mothers loving kindness
and protective spirit to suckle
her breast of tenderness
while cuddled in her arms I feel
caressed by her gentle
tender strokes upon my brow.

Suddenly she’s torn
from me like raging waves
smashing over rocks and rolling
back to sea lost in the mist
only visible to me.

Here I am kept by clergy robed
in vanity and vile putrefaction of lies
who advise the pretender to wear the crown?
of jewels shining forth for all to see
never to be mocked by holy vultures for fear
their heads will roll
or forever stilled
in this Iron Mask
like me.

© Copyright Vincent Moore. All Rights Reserved.

Vincent Moore
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Vincent Moore

Vincent Moore pens his thoughts about many things and has a style all his own. Sometimes, he parties with words excessively and it becomes necessary to publish quickly lest his work be lost in the dark corners of his room or his mind. Vincent will lead you into mysterious worlds that are strange yet somehow familiar, worlds that will leave you unsettled and breathless for more. He was born and raised in Montreal Canada among the Irish, Brits, Italians and French. Point St Charles (commonly called The Point) was the Hell’s kitchen of Montreal. He played, cried, laughed and fought on the street corners, survival was an instinct and watching each others back important. Vincent left home at 17 to find his way in the world, failure and success he had plenty of. He studied the Arts and loved to draw and paint. Took acting lessons and envied those on the stage under the bright lights and hoped to some day become an actor, writer, playwright or painter. Vincent welcomes you to his world of mystery, fantasy and solitude. You can find a few of his writings in one of 3 books he's published. In Absinthia- In Melancholia and In Passionata.

6 thoughts on “My Mask of Madness

  • September 12, 2018 at 10:33 PM

    What a horrible fate, that iron mask. Well penned and emotive, the pain and the psychological toll of such torture, unimaginable. Great work as always Vincent.

    • September 14, 2018 at 9:38 AM

      Could you imagine such a fate to be enclosed in a mask of iron and thrown into a dungeon to rot. How inhumane mankind has been throughout the centuries and still is to this day. I don’t believe it will ever cease until this world does. Peace my friend and thank you for stopping in to leave your mark, much appreciated.

  • September 14, 2018 at 2:31 AM

    I think we all have wore that mask Vincent. Some can step away from it for periods in their lives, others sadly can not.

    • September 14, 2018 at 9:40 AM

      So true my friend, we’ve all worn that fateful mask at some periods in our lives, some more than others. I felt compelled to express my feelings for this king so treated with disdain in a manner not fitting to any human. Thank you for your comment sir, much appreciated.

  • September 14, 2018 at 10:07 AM

    I know that mask my friend, I’ve seen the depths, although only in the mental sense, and it is not a place I want to be. Like Kurt said, it is with extreme sadness i see that some are forever locked behind that iron mask never again to see the light. But on the actuality of it all that is such a horrible torture to be locked away like that.

  • September 14, 2018 at 10:33 AM

    So you can appreciate mentally what this man possibly experienced within himself. It’s not a place neither one of us want to be Paul, although agony and self flagellation can sometimes impose on our souls. To be locked behind it for the remainder of ones life is no life to live, I for one would fall on my sword. I will allow no one or no power to be in control of my life like that, death would be a welcome relief and falling on one’s sword no matter the method can be a very honorable reward with dignity that may be left.

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