You’ve buried your face
Under manifold masks;
What name shall your
Tombstone display, pridefully?
Or in shame? Reveal now,
Of tattered face-skins, which
One is yours; I see, you’ve stolen
This one from a soldier, that one
From a lover’s corpse. Psycho-phantom,
A shadow your are! Under the light
Silently you crawl, dividing the scars,
Scarcely your own, desiring everything
And more! I say now, I wish I could see;
Of your many faces, which one is me!