The ignorant souls long to impress.
Their futile efforts produce a mask.
A hollow thing that hides the mess.
In hiding, souls become careless;
And in feigned beauty, begin to bask.
The painted eyes are emotionless.
Soon the mind falls in its regress.
One drop of wine trapped in it’s flask.
A hollow thing that hides the mess.
The pride, the ego will never confess.
To reveal reality is a terrible task.
The intricate smiles are emotionless.
The interior image is what to suppress.
The exterior image, an empty cask.
A hollow thing that hides the mess.
Each wonders at the painter’s purpose.
Forgetful minds forget to ask.
A hollow thing that hides the mess.
The solid features are emotionless