Our Act

It is an act we have,
A show that we put on,
The faces we wear
For the public to see.
We are performers
On the stage of life,
Wearing masks
To disguise
Who we are,
How we feel,
And what we think.
We smile to cover
Our heaviness of heart
And use bravado
To hide our fears.
We speak in riddles
To avoid being straight,
And pretend we don’t care
When our life leaves us
Neither satisfied
Nor fulfilled.
We stand like statues
Sculpted in stone
Cold, hard and indifferent
To the anguish around us
As well as within us,
All the while wondering,
“Can’t anyone be real?”
“Is this all there is?”
“Why am I not happy?”
We maintain our act
At any cost,
And all it costs us
Is our life!