Alas ! It no longer remains, that cherub-
like, innocent, cherry face !
When at times it can be seen,
Through those sparkling, dark eyes,
God himself peeping out from within !
For it is rather unfortunate,
And we generally blame our fate,
Since the face with which we are born,
Is not the face which we die !
As we keep growing up,
Surrounded by more hawks than doves !
Our experiences are not always what we love !
Shaped by our attitudes, environment and interactions,
Our likes, dislikes and reactions,
Our face mirrors various impressions we gradually imbibe;
And we put on the mask to cover and hide,
Our true thoughts and feelings that dwell inside !
With artificial laughter and deceitful words,
Never letting the right hand know,
What the left hand does !
And with time, this mask gets slowly set,
Becoming a part of us to share our fate !
We participate in life's fancy dress ball,
When our true face is not seen, or shown at all !
With old age approaching, we become richer still,
More wealthier than Egyptian Pharaohs and Kings,
For whom those artisans of the past,
Skillfully designed their golden death mask !
But we lesser mortals are more fortunate,
For time and nature takes on this task;
And moulds our final death mask !
The face with which we are born,
Is not the face with which we die !