The false self has no soul, an empty shell
Projected into being by the grief
Of he whose true self, buried, longs to tell
A story not of knowing but relief.
The shadow of this man behind the mask
Creeps through the eyes of plastic, painted face
Allowing glimmer only of the task
He failed to conquer: victories displaced.
Alone inside his painted, breathing frame
The vacant heart he feels displays his pain
To those whose eyes, ignited, bring a flame
Of hopeful truth won through the fight; sustained.
Comparison of dead and live cannot be made-
Bartered to the hidden self is life betrayed.
–copyright Jill Szoo Wilson
Photo credit: This poem was inspired by German painter Mark Slavin‘s piece, Life Review. If you would like to further explore Mark Slavin‘s art, please visit his Facebook page and website: Mark’s website , Mark’s Facebook.