29. facade
words and deeds can thread through a soul, like a needle through delicate silk
weaving cloths into puppets, put on display as a frown or fire, burning through piercing eyes
as nothing more but a open book, laying bare with its secrets naked for opponents
but no soul hides away emotions when on the battlefield
it beams from red coloured teeth, shining black and polished with pride
still I would pick up a sword to learn how to shield with armour of steel, hiding daggers in a middle
and aftermath of salt thrown into wounds that scrape a line to the throat
faces across the field won’t see my eyes glitter with ice, burning in my head
as I stand in front of my enemies with a face of facade
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