Mark
What is this?
I never noticed this.
Countless times my reflection I viewed
No mark did I ever see.
But now, as I scavenge my face,
There is a mark on me.
With each new person I meet
The mark seems to fleet,
Transform, but never disappear.
I can feel it as shifts from here to there.
As the mass of people accumulate,
The mark seems to replicate.
They morph,
Combing into something like a mask.
As I try to ignore it,
I reluctantly ask
Will the mark always appear?
Will one see me as I see?
Does the mark come from fear?
Is the mark the real me?
I never noticed this.
What is this?
Copyright © Damien Charles | Year Posted 2015
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