July 31, 2014

Poem: The End of the Day

By the end of the day,
My eyes are smeary,
Sloughing off
Their layer of pretense.
Too tired to maintain
The mask of wakeful youth,
I let it fall and crumble.
I wash my face,
Anoint my eyes my cheeks my brow
With Oil of Optimism.
Perhaps in the morning
Things will look better.

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