My Poetry. The Mask.

I beg for you to try and see,
the face behind the mask on me,
It’s dark and eyeless, looking cold,
But on my face, is proud and bold,
Deserted of feeling, unable to read,
The desire of ambition, harmony or greed,
Where you to take this mask of mine,
And place it on an empty shrine,
The face behind would depreciate,
But the mask lives on, to re-create.
Facebook welcome.
Please Share me.
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