She crawls on the ground
She feels stricken by what she sees
It is not her face
But those are her eyes
This could not be happening
Not to her
The legends are not real
So how could they affect her?
She looked at the moon face
It was beautiful to her delight
She looked into the forest and
She heard them screaming her demise
They asked her for tobacco
Or maybe a little food
And she had refused them and to her dismay
She found her self stuck
With this false face
She looks just like everyone
Yet she is something less
And still something more
She has those solemn puffy eyes
And her nose has been bleeding for weeks
She saw them there and she said no
And that is all you have to know
I’m not saying this will happen to you
Nor am I saying that they are coming for you
It’s just a thought but if you can
Give the faces what they demand

**Note: this poem is about a Native American legend. The legend is about
something called "the sickness of the false faces" which is brought on by
either disrespecting the false faces [masks] or the faces of the forest.
 
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