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A Masquerade

-AAKRITI THATAL

You.
Possessing an aura, strong,
Holding extravagant strength,
Envisioning a world of your own;
You are POWER.

You.
Crafting thoughts and shaping words,
Bending pens and jotting words;
You are ART.

You.
Talking might and spending bounds,
Traversing lands and exploring facts;
You are RICH.

Marching forth, You are a SOLDIER.
You give, You are a GIVER.
You fight, You protect, You save;
You are a SAVIOUR.

BUT, are you real?
Who are You behind all that showcase?

Who is it You see, when You look into the mirror?
Because when I do,
Is it You?
And more importantly, is it True?

I looked at You, and I could feel the pricks in Your aura.
I saw You weak, engulfing Yourself into the maddening crowd.
Where is Your Power?
Was it not True?

I read Your words and Your pictures,
Nothing but plain messages and vocabulary.
Where is Your Art?
Did it get mixed with the colours, dark?
Or, among the empty pen refills?
Where is the Truth?

I enjoyed the privileges You offered;
Your riches.
But, are You exhilarated?
Do You exult?
Is the Joy Real?

I read You in the mirror everyday.
You reflect back at me.
Do nothing I do not,
Say nothing I do not.

Is it fortune or am I just unlucky to have seen Your real face?
For, when I look away from the mirror, I see a different image of myself.
You are gone,
Leaving me masquerading with a thousand other masqueraders.

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