ObservationThe Mask Seller’s Observation
I carve, I paint, with careful hands,
Yet never once do I understand.
Why hide a face, when truth is free?
Still, masks they want—and pay to me.
A king’s bold grin, a jester’s cheer,
They buy, they wear, they disappear.
“What is it that you all conceal?”
They only laugh but never reveal.
Yet hunger speaks, so I obey,
I shape, I mold, I sell each day.
Perhaps one day, no masks they’ll need—
But ‘til that day, my hands still feed.0.1639%
