Real Face

A face upon a face,
we wear a new one every day;
I cry today,
I laugh today —
contextual, sensual.
But every day, I gain a new face:
I hold my fear,
I behold my thought,
I scare my own life,
I hide my tears,
and wear one upon one,
and say, “life moves on.”

The longer I go and come,
the farther I close off my thought;
but again, on one more night,
I wear another face —
secluded, and scared;
hideous, and gorgeous;
lame, and shamed.
And with the night, I put on my real face.