I try them on like shirts or shoes to see if they fit,
And have my own Venice carnival,
I create them for fun, sometimes, but more for protection,
Those masks that people call by my name,
Personality that wears off with every rain
And crumbles under the heat of the sun.
The public decay of an acting corpse.
Who would you like to see today, my audience,
Whose presence can you tolerate tonight?
Whose presence can I bear to show?
Do you walk away when I cry?
Do you expect a phony laugh and how are you?
The artist, the victim, the murderer?
Write the play for me and I create myself!
Every so often I die with my mask, lie with my mask,
Cry with my mask and kill it off for you, my audience,
When I have jumped the shark like a cheap,
Horrendous character in a pointless play.
And sometimes all I do is put me away.
Some faces are useful when you have forgotten,
And stop asking what is underneath.
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Comments about this poem (23 Fitzroy by Jan Hauck )
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