The Public Face Poem by james watkin
The Public Face
Imperturbable, if cold?
A wall of self-control?
Move in closer, to hear
What is eating away
At that facade of white stone.
As it has, day by day.
Bug-like irritableness.
And with what up-bubbles
For a pain, resentful
That's truly sulfuric
Expect it to crumble;
Noisily hysteric!
Wednesday, April 28, 2021
Topic(s) of this poem: face,inner world
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5/6/2024 1:55:09 PM # 1.0.0.1119
