Masks

Children are pure,

Either in innocence or cruelty,

Society is corrupt,

Always has been, forever will be,

The masks we don early in life,

Will gradually be changed and altered,

To better serve us through our growing years,

Until the mask has become too much a part of us,

And we will be forced to wear it until the end of days,

Unable to connect once more with the purity of the past,

As children, the masks we wore were makeshift things,

Silly little drawings made of paper and paste,

Easily tearing and falling apart,

But, as we aged, we began to understand,

And we began to get the hang of it all,

How to repair the cracks in the plaster,

How to staple our patchwork lives together,

How to wear the mask with natural ease,

It is part of us, and forever shall it be,

The final piece of illusion preventing us from attaining

True friendship and love in life,

For we are guarded behind those masks,

Watching through slitted eyes,

Talking in practiced voices,

Keeping our real selves to ourselves,

Society wears several,

The masks are interchangeable …

The masks of life, and death