Hidden in the open-
Smuggled through the night;
And shoved out of sight
Hidden treasures;
To those we may truly delight.
We lay in puddles of overpriced greed,
Beneath a bruised up midnight sky-
Where tipsy masquerade masks taunt and flee
As they hide their double sided faces beneath fake revere.
I think that-
Maybe they are ashamed.
For;
They are-
More lost than us.
(They are-
Wandering monarchs
Without wings)