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A mask is worn every day,
Bound to the face like words to a page,
All of these words, ones we do not say,
Shifting around like players on stage.
The single word ‘tear’ streams down the side,
On a mask trying to convey the meaning,
Of the feeling behind the words that are cried,
In the ink of the tear momentarily gleaming.
Words within words, in ink that still drips,
On the masks at show in this masquerade,
None of them have yet fluttered past lips,
Instead, silently, they are displayed.