my life is spent in toil

creating
constructing
perfecting

a mask

it looks much like my own face
but when i glimpse it in the mirror
i see a stranger

at night when i should be sleeping
i am at work
molding it
adding layers of paper mâché
and slathering it
in the sordid tones
of concrete
and plastic
and smoke

camouflage
befitting of a world
created in brimstone
and gasoline fires

it is grey
it is sullen
and it is nearly perfect

this is the face that people see
who i'm expected to be
but it is not the real me