it's fun when i put on my face paint,
for me at least,
but it never really works.
when i'm wearing faces,
i'm not quite sure what is my real purpose.
i'm never quite real then
and i'm sure the whole world knows it.
but when i show the real me --
the one that wears
t-shirts, baseball hats and tennis shoes,
writes code and poetry,
drinks too much caffeine,
laughs way too loud (even at the worst times),
who doesn't claim to know it all
but figures all will be clear someday
and i can flow on until then...
as strange as I am,
i feel alright about that face.
there's usually something to smile about,
it's easy to sympathize with people,
since sometimes i enjoy hearing their stories,
the poetry of their lives.
i preserve the illusion --
the reality? --
that someone somewhere cares,
even if for only a minute.
to relieve the storytellers of their tedium
without asking them for
too much of themselves.
now my Poetic face must yield
to the Programmer face
is it real? or hypocracy?
which of me is real?
after awhile, i dunno...