All The Faces Are The Same Poem by Tan Pratonix

All the faces are the same,
Each like a mask without a name;
There is no feeling in the eyes
Which lurk behind the cold disguise;
There is no love, there is no hate,
Only bits of blackened slate.

Only bits of blackened slate
Which cannot feel, which cannot see;
Only bits of blackened slate
Which know no joy, no misery;
Something more terrible than pain
Behind that disguise can be seen:
The heart is dead, long since slain;
What remains is but a machine.