My mask has been the same,
though my road has surely changed-
taking a glance at yesterday
reminded me of that-
looking in the mirror,
I can see what face was worn-
given to me by a reflection-
and once in place,
every breath is a reminder,
that through it all, my mask has
been the same-
sifting through old papers,
as brittle as October leaves-
wading through old photos,
as fresh as the grass in spring-
laughing about smiling times,
as sweet as an april breeze-
reminds me that my mask has
been the same-
show me a person, and I will
show you a mask-
often as layered as old
sometimes as thin as thread-
many apply it daily-
with others, it’s nearly etched-
every face has a reflection-
every set of eyes has a twin,
and every smile has a façade-
but through it all, my mask has
been the same*


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