How many faces I’ve worn over the years,
so many, I know not the man in the mirror.
Born we are with the most innocent of faces,
through time it changes and hardens to adapt.
Masks I call them not as they are just temporary,
faces they are, it’s who I need to be. Right now.
Look at the faces of people on the street,
were they born with them or, a metamorphosis many times over?
In this life, faces I will have many,
what face will I be next year?