A parade.
A sun.
The chelsea smile's that the children bring.
They are so full of flesh, so full of life.
Even the alleyways are flooded with light today,


The devils.
The gods.
A magical sunkissed spectacle that they all laugh about.
The men and women in masks that breathe life onto the city streets.
Playing the roles of the only-imagined.


No horror.
No fear.
The children stoic when the devils poke plastic pitchforks at them,
Showing they aren't afraid, that no men in masks can shake them,
That with their ruffled hair and rosy cheeks, they are invincible.


Toothless smiles.
Toothless adults.
The children are the light today, the children mend fractures.
The adults here learnt long ago the power of a mask,
So they barely smile, they barely show their teeth, they barely laugh but for the clowns.


Education.
Entertainment.
Years later, the children run into each other in the very alleyways that are black on parade day,
Years later, the children, battle-hardened and scarred all hold the power of the mask,
Oh, the power of the mask holds them.


A mask worn too long is no longer a mask,
A mask worn too long is a powerful and enveloping entity.
It curves your teeth inward, points them.
Dislocates your jaw so you can swallow beings whole.
A mask worn too long and the saliva drips from your gums.


So this valuable lesson on parade day goes untaught,
Unspoken, the cycle continues and the children from parade day,
Now adults on parade day.
Adults with their masks, with their faces all clouded.
Adults with their secrets and their lives and their hearts.


All wishing they could undo the stitches that hold the mask to their heads.
The razor wire that binds their hands together.
A mask worn too long and you can't enjoy the parade.