August 7, 2008
My mask is fraying at the edges,
Scraps of paper hanging loose.
My smile seems a grimace,
Time to get a new one.

Reaching to remove it, I feel
My traitor lips, turned down in a frown.
"Why so sad?," I ask myself.
And I pretend there is no answer.

It's a relief to put on my new face,
To take the paper smile for my own
And forget that beneath the mask
I want to weep.

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