The masks in the valleys, shadows in the trees,
Daunting laughter drifting through the breeze.
Smiles presented, with unoptional fees,
Regress, regress,
The whispers prod and tease.
Words come, but mumbled and without sense,
Can you see, yet, the madness?
The silence grows unbearably dense,
And sanity trembles upon the fence.
They laugh, they linger, they call me by name,
But none of their faces ever look the same.
Regress, regress,
The voices confess,
That madness wears reason
Like a beautiful dress.
The mirrors are cracking, but nothing has shattered,
The thoughts in my head lie bruised and scattered.
I reach for the truth, but the truth has fled,
Leaving a thousand strangers inside my head.
Hush now, hush,
Don’t make a sound.
The things that you’ve buried
Are crawling from the ground.
The masks in the valleys are beginning to fall,
And the shadows in the trees were never shadows at all.
Regress, regress,
One final confession—
The madness was never the haunting.
It was the reflection.
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