No Longer a Good Actress

I used to be able to pretend a lot better than I do now. In some ways life is better, but in other ways it is worse. At the same time, I might like myself better now than, say, in high school. A Chaucerian stanza for FOWC: Lips.


To smile with ones lips and not one’s eyes —
Underneath this mask, who can for long hide?
No longer a good actress, I reprise
This role without success, cannot abide
Nor anymore pretend, not satisfied.
Emotional, my brain tends to break down,
But I’ve no painted smile like a clown.

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