HarsH ReaLiTy

Comforting, I feel my warm breath spread across my face.
I see you and you see what I want you to see.
I am the ultimate salesman, I sell without a race.
Want to be me? You do not know me.

I am a prisoner of my own making.
I can rail and rant, but still it is his voice you hear.
Shouting from my sleep, what part of me is waking?
It is the mask, the mask you know, that you fear.

And yet freedom is not a topic of mine.
I smile and glare, but to you it is the same.
It is a freedom as well as a bind,
This mask I wear, it is my bane.

Yet willingly do I accept this curse.
I bask in the freedom of it, comforting steel.
Surely a box would be worse?
At least now, at least here I feel.

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