I found this incredibly powerful poem in Nonviolent Communication by Marshall Rosenberg.
The Mask
Always a mask
Held in the slim hand whitely
Always she had a mask before her face--
Truly the wrist
Holding it lightly
Fitted the task;
Sometimes however
Was there a shiver,
Fingertip quiver,
Ever so slightly--
Holding the mask?
For years and years and years I wondered
But dared not ask
And then--
I blundered,
Looked behind the mask,
To find
Nothing--
She had no face.
She had become
Merely a hand
Holding a mask
With grace.
--Author unknown
