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By Andrew Edmonds
These fiendish faces which I can't control,
Contradicting the people I extol,
Suggesting Devil incarnate, soul sore,
I can't stand these false faces anymore.
Emotion, expression, strangely combined:
A sprinkling of anger when you are kind,
Does he find humour in your soft concern?
Then why with pride do his eyes gently burn?
I change in the mirror to something worse,
This confusion of Truth, a heavy curse.
The constant thought sticks too strong to deny:
Can I believe the words when the face says lie?