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Jul 2012
I am a mask.

I am the face of soldiers, murderers, monsters, heroes...
Though I guard one man from stealing eyes
I am the last thing many see,
From the gallows to the shadows
And the depths of the sea.

Savior, slaughterer, sacred, scarring,
And yet I have no eyes with which to cry.

I am a mask.

I am the shield of the weak,
Protector of the fearful,
But people look down on me.
They call me a coward, but then I am showered
With praise when the crooked see.

Needed, never noticed, nervous,
And yet I have no eyes with which to cry.

I am a mask.

Used and thrown away,
Used again another day:
To raise a gun and rob a bank;
To shield the lawman stopping a criminal;
To blind a man who walks on death row;
To hide the executioner's twisted smile.

Lawbreaker, liberator, litigator, life,
And yet I have no eyes with which to cry.

I am a mask.
Written by
Sean Pope
766
 
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