The Cult of the Masks

By Caitlin McCaul

BackstoryI wrote 'The Cult of the Masks' over the summer holidays as part of an online event. One of my twitter mutuals ran an event where the community could make fan art or write poems centred on a prompt based on an aspect on the fandom.This was written for the Week 1, Day 7 prompt based on Team Bolas in QSMP Purgatory. The poem follows Philza and his journey in the event. Hearing his thoughts ranging from his opinions about his team to wanting to overthrow the people in charge.I wanted to display Philza's slow descent into madness. Starting with his denial and anger, turning into depression and finally accepting his team's role as the crazy ones. Kind of like the five stages of grief, minus the bargaining stage.And with the backstory out of the way - enjoy the poem.

The Cult of the Masks

A challenge of a lifetime,
Survival of the fittest,
Putting us against our friends,
beating us down for their twisted game.
In a baren wasteland,
It's kill or be killed,
We don’t stand a chance,
All we bring is shame.What little hope we have
burns in the flames of the campfire,
Our honour, Our sanity, Our dignity,
Fades into the emptiness of the night.
All we have is each other,
The dirty half dozen,
The six maniacs,
The ones full of spite.Our allies stabbed us in the back,
Setting aside years of friendship
for their own personal gain.
Nothing will ever be the same.
Nothing ever goes our way,
It's like we’re cursed,
Sacrificing everything in our procession,
To say we’re organized is a bold claim.Our lord and savoir,
The toxic fumes of the wasteland,
Release us from this prison,
Free us from this cruel reality.
We lower our masks,
Grab a chainsaw and a blade,
A shield and a scythe,
Ready for our killing spree.