Dress her up in a gossamer confection
cunningly designed to conceal her flaws
and expose certain angles.
Blinded by her beauty,
prospective suitors line up,
waiting to take this dazzling creature
for a spin on the dance floor.
Her dance card is full,
her audience spellbound -
until the tissue-like concoction wears thin,
the fabric is torn away
and the elaborate mask falls,
exposing the truth
no amount of spin can hide.
This poem was inspired by the practice of "spinning the story" to the media - a bad habit heartily endorsed by certain governments. Sadly, all too often, the press doesn't bother to question these stories. To see more masks torn away, visit Sunday Scribblings.