empathetic villanelle

Behind each mask there lurks an injured soul,
we do not note or see it while we pass,
hurt eyes observe us, vacant as a whole.

Nothing becomes us like our daily role
in the human drama,we all show our class;
behind each mask there lurks an injured soul.

Surviving the day, that's our normal goal,
not showing that we're brittler than glass;
hurt eyes observe us, vacant as a whole.

Our hearts have been entombed at the south pole
and we've been bound into a solid mass;
behind each mask there lurks an injured soul.

What pain we feel, burns inside like a coal
that's solid though it seems just like a gas;
hurt eyes observe us, vacant as a whole.

Where once was heart, now there is just a hole,
what once was gold now seems like cheapest brass.
Behind each mask there lurks an injured soul;
hurt eyes observe us, vacant as a whole.