𝐂𝐡. 𝟏 ; 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝-𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝

Here in the masquerade,
plastic faces on parade.
Truth refracted by our lies.
Masks revealing what we hide.

Beneath the mask, a painted face--
there is no truth that's not erased.
We are what we pretend to be--
flaunting our complexities.

We cannot undo the mess we're in;
Our costumes now our second skin.
We choose carefully our facades;
We pay the price to act like Gods.

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Dream is assigned to assassinate Prince George however, things don't go as planned.

Updates one or two times a week!
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