# 1

Thick blackness conceals his face as he walks past the welcoming threshold into the unknown.

To be noticed just to be not alone,

His mask shows nothing out of the ordinary:

Sadness.

Bitterness.

Anger.

Absent at present.

Only a smile is etched in as testimony.

The eye sees that he is ordinary.

It commends and befriends him.

me. Me. ME.”–he reaps what Fake has sown.

When the sun begins to fade,

Alas, he returns to where he belongs while there is little daylight left.

He makes it through the unwelcoming threshold of his home just as darkness has finally set in.

The moon its only weakness,

His mask gradually mists away like smoke by the dimness of closing minutes.

Tear drops of diversity:

Sadness.

Bitterness.

Resentment.

Hopelessness.

Unforgiveness.

Anger.

Fear.

Hate.

Each has a name.

Rage soon to take control,

He quickly turns on the lamp to save a dying smile . . .

The stillness of the night triumphs once again.

“Will there ever be a truce?”

He confides in the unreasonable.

Tonight, his only companion will be

My secret shadow. 

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