I am Persona X

I have no face.

Masks allow me to see

your point of view.

The back of my head is open to the boulevard

and swallowed up by the yawning sky.

Progress is my strong suit:

 I have repudiated my own history.

 

And, as I am a type of x,

I can take on any value.

X must not be defined,

therefore I abdicate my own definitions and terms.

It’s so logical.

 

When your gaze

burns with contempt,

my image flickers, thin and gaseous.

I put my hands behind me

feeling for the universe

they say is inside every head.

 

But someone has trepanned my skull,

letting out the daemon, leaving me

without the tongues of men

or angels.

 

© Copyright 3/24/2012 by Sara Hall
All Rights Reserved

 

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