The Mask
yes, there was this man in the village
he was happy.
yet, no one know who he really was
even until death.
all his life he wore the mask of the happy man
dignified and praised.
when he lived till 60 he wore the mask through and through
he was famous for his love and charity.
till his funeral the people cried
there i saw the mask, smiling and always willing to help
always empathizing, always willing to understand
the plight of each and everyone
and he was buried a happy man
time buries all including the mask of the happy man
if only they had taken time to dig him out from his grave
they could have seen the rotten ugliness beneath the mask of happiness
let him go, those who knew later said
he was a happy man, he served us so well, let him be, we pray.
i know the ugliness of his true self
but i guess, no one likes to hear what it is.
my lips are sealed
now we must praise him again: posthumously.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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