How true it is my friend so dear,
Words are not always what we hear.
Behind the page they tend to hide,
Wearing a mask of disguise.
How true it is a mask we see,
And not always what lies beneath.
In masquerade their words do fall,
Upon the heart and soul of all.
Behind each mask of anger there is pain,
Behind each unspoken word a flame.
They mask in pride though languished and weak,
There is still silence in the words they speak.
Their secrets are concealed between the line,
They smooth it over with rhythm and rhyme.
Behind the page their truth is heard,
They so carefully choose each word.
With pen in hand they do flatter,
Their glossy speech soon turns to chatter.
Their charitable deception and motives of gain,
Soon will bring their counsel down to shame.
Glazed communication’s disguise what’s real,
The hidden things are not revealed.
Through eyes of the mask do only they speak,
and hide behind the page.