Paper on Parade,
Known as a Masquerade.
Hidden in disguise,
Those lovely dark green eyes.
Who is this fair maiden-
With her corset pulled tight,
A woman of art,
A child of night.
As she paints her lips,
And batts her lashes,
The mask goes on.
All doubt crashes.
With identity concealed,
She enters the field,
On the arm of a dancer,
All truth is sealed.

-Amber