Painted faces…

In the mirror I look,

I see. 

The mask so perfect

It’s only me.

On the street

into the day 

painted faces

make their way.

Each their own 

a smile,

the lack. 

Mask of burden 

don’t break their back.

Young one’s learn,  

each day they play. 

To mask their lives,  

to form,

to pay. 

  A dance in the night,  

a new mask tonight. 

How unique,  

how proud,  

the gift of the shroud.

Transition I see 

the mask a new

taken and molded,  

by one,

by few.

   Mask of falsehood,  

mask of disdain 

lost it’s purity,  

playing the game. 

  A task of challenge,  

the joy of life, 

choosing the face,  

to mask the strife.

   A collection so versatile, 

so large and complete. 

For one so young,

to love, 

to hate,  

to conquer,  

to cheat. 

  In the mirror,

I look,

I see. 

The mask,  

a jail; 

I have to be free! 

michael sean symonds 

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