A Hollow Thing

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


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