The mask is so suave.
How it is applied, so fashionably, to the facade.
Bashful in principle, aggressive in thought,
time tried again to tell it what it ought
and yet somehow, a passion seeps through
that reveals what was always true.
What he always knew.
Man is not mask;
he does not bask in those
loudly quiet silences.
The painfully subdued violences.
Holiday praxis on a false axis:
someone else’s line.
Someone else’s crime
covered away by the mask’s sway.
While it tears holes in the skin,
penetrates within;
a parasite of society’s might.
Tearing anew a new you.
A new soul from one that was never lost;
that’s the mask’s only cost.
Look cool, act natural.
Feel drool, lack factual.
Self is waiting, but clumsy.
Self’s never fading, but wants to be
more than a supporting character in your mind.
Seek it more and you will find
some new peace.
New release.
The mask only cracks when you see what it lacks.
The light only shows when you tell it you know.
You are not born to wait.
You are born to be the self that’s great.
#Dec1 #Poem from #Prompt
The mask is so suave.
How it is applied, so fashionably, to the facade...
#WriteSky
#blueskyrelay #timetriedagain
#whistpr #mask
#vss365 #suave
#foxprose #loudlyquietsilences
#2wordprompt #bashful #principle
#firewords280 #holiday #praxis
#emoetry #passionate (passion)
