The Mask

Just a game?

The procession continues as we all put on believable costumes. The parade of charade

Behind the allure of impressions is a fatal haemorrhage. Behind the majestic walk is a mundane reality. The facade we sustain.

Made for the crowd. Organized for the system. The stage is the denominator. the limelight; an end itself.

The plastic smiles, the firm handshakes, the hugs and beehive of activity engenders false security.

The leaders dress in superman garb, demigods and heroes to be worshipped. Lords of the empire, Kings of the kingdom.

So let the people follow without thinking nor ‘challenge’ constituted authority with questions. Hope they realize their second-rate ratings.

The desire to be free. The hope to be known but not judged. The confidence to confide without being publicized.

So the procession of masqueraders work up loneliness. Lonely in the midst of company. Masked from being known.

We relate with the mask but unfamiliar with the person.