A/N: This is written for the August 2012 WCC competition. Link via. The Review Game on profile.

Hypocrite

The darkness creeps stealthily forward
Flicking off switches as it goes.
The silver sword catches the sun's last rays
As it abandons its world for sleep.

Shadows cast,
They sneak through cracks
And windowpanes.
A cloak
Sewn with deceit
And hemmed
By a crafty man
Who smiles at peace
Throughout the day,
The epitome of good,
While in the dark
Smirks with malice,
Little knife raised
To cut the ties
Of secrecy.

A woman slips out of her cold bed
And into a red dress
Before meeting a stranger beyond the door
And warmth blackened with tar.
Her purse dangled across her vacant back
And a young boy, unneedy, slips a hand
And takes the spoils to cast carelessly away
As the woman does the same to her dress.

A smile;
It fills with lust unseen,
Insanity clawing dark worlds,
Sin threatening to burst away…
Ah,
There is a monster with whom we play
In the darkness that cloaks us all,
Creeping forward,
Opening doors,
Taking payment:

Innocence,
Sweet innocence
Which the sun watched
Through the day.

That bitter innocence
It abandoned
For weariness…
Perhaps it always knew
The darkness was too strong
For it loomed everywhere,
And it never tired
Of painting filthy hypocritical hearts.

That bright light
That shines pathetically
Up in the sky…
You may as well sleep now dear.
You've failed long ago
For it seems sin favours the dark face
Hidden from the light
And humanity favours sin.

What a sad world
Without you to look upon…
But perhaps it's for the best.
The blade comes down
To carve away the mask
Of the hypocrite
And reveal its decaying turn of lips.