A Front

Under a face that shows nothing.

Or a face that shows a skin deep smile,

Or a pair of lips, only tethered to the mask,

That says,

“I’m ok.”

“I’m fine.”

“I forgive you.”

“This is nothing.”

Under a smile that means nothing,

What does it really inspire?

What is it really for?

Who is there to see what really goes on under that mask?

We’ve been living most our lives,

In a machine’s paradise.

And we’ve been so much to,

Act like computers.

Feel nothing, do everything.

The screens of the computer show their programs to the user,

Only to be switched off after it’s use,

Left, alone to gather dust

But who really goes deep into finding out what goes on beyond the screen.

What really goes on, does anyone care?