Poetic creativity needs a certain degree of romanticism which I have been missing during the past couple of days I guess. I went to my closet, pulled out my old mask and put it on! My calm, in control mask. I tried to find the jolly happy one, but could not find it, must have misplaced it last time I took it off. I believe if we all wear our masks long enough (Most of us wear some kind of a mask every now and then and some of us wear them even more often than others) The mask would probably leave a lasting impression underneath and on our real selves.
Sounds like one of those old creepy movies, but if true, I humbly suggest caution and contemplation before and in the process of choosing our masks; They could very well make a lasting, life-long imprint on our souls which would be nearly impossible to undo.