Painted Mask

These tears mean nothing
If they roll down this painted mask.
For it is not a tear,
But still wet paint
Running
From hollow,
Black,
Soulless
Eyes.
Strip the aged and layered paint.
Its colors have faded
And begun to chip and peel
At the corners of the face.
Tear it off,
Tear it all off.
Destroy the wretched thing
Until it is bare and blank.
Get new paint and a new brush.
Let us not draw past mistakes again
But paint something new and something bright.
Let hand,
Brush,
Mind,
And soul
Free.
Have no bounds
In showing the true me.
In showing the real you.