Our Faces Are Not Real
Movie Review: Summer of 84
Only in the early morning do our true faces hang from the skin. We allow shadow to conceal them until we are ready for the day. Our hands then mold our faces in the mirror to an identity want seen. Fake smiles. Played sympathy. An ordinary man while demons are tucked skin deep. This is the mask to be worn, maybe even into the night until the moment, it is ripped away.