Dark Hearts and Dark Thoughts


My Mask. I wear for all to see.
A glove for my head,
Now, worn to my shape.
Hardened lines scribed onto
Its carefully wrought surface, Show the world a woman I know. They show her eyes and ears,
Her mouth and brow.
The mask is as old as my mind,
As young as I dare;
It is creased and weathered,
Scared and lined,
Swept by the wind.
I wear a mask
The whole world can see.
The visor for my helmet,
A shade from the light.
Would I could peel the mask away, And draw upon its surface
By my own hand.
Alas, this shall never be.
For the mask I wear,
It is made of my skin,
And it seems to reach
Down to the bone.


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