Behind the smile belies the intention.

Sitting there, quietly, but at the front the class,

Poised to make the snide remark to myself,

And then store it up for another day.

Each time my mask wears welcome,

For all to see.

The Pharisees would be pleased with my reserved judgement,

Visible only to me and my God,

Who I believe is looking at the mask and my visible deeds.

Meanwhile, the darkness of my soul envelopes me slowly,

Like an incoming fog.