Method Living

My mask a simple clear mask tied with a piece of string in play until the string snapped I clutched it to my face the tool growing no longer transparent The mask wears a Fools grin mocking me In turn I only grip tighter determined to disappear It was not enough there was a glimpse of me through the cracks That flustered the audience to give no applause I resolved to make a new mask to cover the first To act across Shakespeare’s stage Create more layers, play more parts, bringing people more than itself to life When the lights fade and the last flower falls Alone they slowly slide off one by one until the mask mourns Forlorn without it’s string Forgetting who wore it in play