The Mask of Faces

We all have a face 
I simply Stitch mine into position 
Each thread in its proper place 
An ode to the ordinary in covert opposition 
 
We all have a face 
And I, A smile to hide contrition 
Surreptitiously Sutured In lieu of sincerity 
In betrayal of the featureless, my fleshless condition 
 
We all have a face 
On mine, an expression to conceal resentment 
Watercolor over wonder for each passing visage 
Wearing authentic skin with contentment 
 
We all have a face 
And I, cosmetics to obscure fear 
The quiescence of kinship elusive 
For the counterfeit, a life austere 
 
We all have a face 
Behind mine, guilt to bind its aspect 
Gilded in the forges of doubt 
A golden mask of muted affect 

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