Plaster Coating

All about me is nothing
except me. I am like
a plaster casting of my body,
only with another form of
life ticking away inside
the armature.

Friends look at the plaster,
and want to poke at it,
and maybe even paint
silly bright-colored faces
on it.

No one hears the ticking,
or suspects another aspect
of living going on underneath
this smooth white casing.

Even when it speaks, the
words ring out to the edge
of the white, which is
actually black on the inside
because of lack of light.

No, inside I might be
trying on different feelings
to see if they would go well
with what others are seeing,
or I might have given up
ever showing what is going on
and instead gone back to
sleeping.

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