The Curse of Mystique

Intoxication runs through my blood,

Meeting with two-sided, three-sided faces in the crowd,

Could hardly believe one acts dominant within the shouts.

When silence is no longer a solution,

Animosity begins to haunt and burn,

An isle of cursing hits like a knife,

While a soul is pleading, stop, I cannot fight!

Your blueish heart has turned you into a ghost,

Switching your face to a disguise I can barely recognize,

Stop changing...

I will wait,

Wait until the curse is lifted,

Lifted from your poor soul,

Soul that will live again...