Mask

 

Bit of a  ten minute-er , based on current mood.

Polly x

There’s nothing like old friends, or kids

to kick you hard, under the ribs –

evidencing, as they do

how much things change, and how much you

and smiling past selves have been lost

as ghosts; evaporated like tears.

Pretending to be happy turns you grey.

The mask will have to crack one day.

The desperate mirth of Comedy’s smile

tilting to Tragedy’s broken wail.

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