The man behind the mask- Facial disfigurements in the time of Corona. Our faces make us who we are Otherwise, we would all be the same Some faces are boosted by artificial vanity Whilst some are very plain. But now, our faces are hidden away Behind medical masks and patterned cloth Which were previously buried in cupboards or sewing baskets Being eaten by moths. Now, our faces are muted sounds, A whisper of what they used to be. Smiles smothered, frowns falsified, They may still be there, but cannot be seen. Except some of us never smile- Not because we're depressed or fed up- But because our faces don't work like other people. Looking like we're all stuck in a rut. But now, we're even. I look just like you. Everyone looks the same. With our faces hidden behind old cloth, I can look normal for a few Treasured minutes, on a bus journey or a supermarket sweep But it's only when I take off my mask Is my disability unleashed.