The Visage

Every man is a Mask,

Assigned roles as their only task.

The Mask is real, the Man a farce.

Not all Masks are the same,

Some are farther, some closer to fame,

But the men are from the same herd; tame.

And then there are those, who follow no rules,

They choose to be the artists, rather than the tools.

They carve their own destiny unlike us mules.

The Masks define the seams for some,

For others it’s of importance none.

And then there are those men of notice

The inventors, the creators and men of action.

They give human development a definite traction,

They belong to the universe, not a single faction.

These men when compared to the Mask,

Are more real than their assigned task,

They aren’t used to life in sweet glory’s bask.

They earn recognition and fame for their name,

They choose to go out with the fairest dame,

But these men are real, the Mask a game.

This tale shows Man has a choice,

To cry with the given task or rejoice,

The Man is real, The Mask a farce.

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