A Crimson Mask Poem by Cynthia Sok

Mismatched confinement
recruited enticement
seizing and slathering grace,
insidious and grim.
Reminded of the treachery
a clique reduced in numbers
laughs at the foolishness.

We smile behind a mask
and let on a deceitful appearance
mutilated in mind and body.
Our hearts are not one
but of a mind
confused in our own self
repenting on decisions and desire.

Remind me not of who I have become.

Record the blissful child who has grown
and lost his naiveté
and lose his memories of the past
and find them well hidden in the future.

For we are who we are -
the mask we dance in
hides our smile,
but never our eyes.
Deceitful looks, overlooked.
We laugh and wonder
who are we to be us
and to be a mingler among them.