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Why wear the makeup, make believe,
as though our greasy paint deceives,
or knuckle dusting wipes away
sight, site when being secretive?
A statement made by sheltered tongue
beside ears pricking, mouth agape?
Yes there’s foreboding, those pricked thumbs,
bewitched by whirl, whorl imprint stained.
A stagecraft, though who’s cast away
is doubtful, scene seen by fourth wall -
dramatic irony in deed -
for motive, message in the eyes.
Here’s cheek, not cheerful, in their guise,
guys used to plotting one’s demise;
taut temple, what you should believe -
the weakest link, defending thought.
If ever prompt was unrequired,
hear here, as words recalled, conspired;
no limelight, nor soliloquy,
but body language speaks to deaf.
So why the mask, masque playing ball?
Pause in applause at curtain call,
with new reviews, unsatisfied?
Is this a Revenge Tragedy?
An open book at read-through stage
but now unscripted frame-up framed?
How does the vest link with the sleeve?
Full picture here we do not see.
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