Who waits behind that mask that stares into dark space?
Whose eyes plead with yours to rip off the plastic face?
Whose hands yank against the cloth that holds them in their place?
Whose soul cries out in fear as nightmares come in chase
What was that creature’s name before it was a ghost?
What thoughts run within that mind hidden by its host?
What streets did those feet wander, where did they travel most?
What did those hidden lips utter: sweet songs, or brash boasts?
Who was this person before they ran from the light?
Who made this plastic canvas to cover their sight?
Who locked these iron shackles, who stamped out their fight?
Who turned their back on children, who left them in their plight?
You step towards them and reach for their perfect white mask;
You plead with them to run away and leave the mask at last;
You slam against their cage to free them from their past;
Now you stand among the ruins of your shattered
Looking glass.
