Poetry: Untitled

How many masks do I observe

Through the course of each day?

The truth of an individual

Is concealed by a facade.

That person is easily recognized 

Through a brief observation.

This is too trying a thing

Given our predilection for fantasy.

We want a person to be

That which is obvious.

None want to discover

The realities of those around.

How is it possible to exist

When others are disturbed by myself?

Have I nearly disappeared

Within the ghost of who i am not?

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