I’ll take the costume from the shelf
the garments I’m supposed to wear
put them on to match the role
play the stranger to my soul

cloaked in robes that conceal
the truer person underneath
this disguise does its job
with a price that destroys

I’m the master at this game
knowing what I’m to say
nod the head, evoke the phrase
spouting lies to fill the space

murmurs state the holy words
catechisms now perverse
when the whisper deep inside
denies the dogma as a lie

prisoner in this straight jacket
tailor made to fit the frame
by prior perception of the crowd
exacting wishes made to mold

I’ll genuflect in response
state the words masses want
while I wither deep inside
slipping further into the void.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180319.