Double-Sided Mask

older poem

This mask,
That I wear,
Painted a bright shade of fake yellow
With those feathers that look real
But aren't real-
Royal purple, dazzling gold, and shimmering green-,
With a painted-on smear of a smile,
On my side smudged and worn with sweat and tears,
But,
On theirs,
Beautiful and flawless-
Flawless and smiling
Like all the other faces gazing back into my own;
If I look hard enough, squint just right, and allow myself to see,
To really see,
I can
Perceive
Beyond, can distinguish the fear in the pearly, jeweled eyes-
Fear that the mask will fall, will slip, will reveal what lies beneath.
Is it just me?
Just me that wears this mask?
Or is it all?