Act

It’s all an elaborate act,
The pitch,
The body language,
The tone of voice,
The smile,
It’s all just a way of getting people
Interested enough to talk to you…

It is acting on a permanent scale,
There is no respite,
No time for rest,
The smile remains forever intact,
Always coaxing the unsure
Out of the safety of their shells
And into a place of impulse…

Only the eyes can’t act,
Any hint of worry or doubt
That creeps into your mind
Will seep its way through those clear windows,
Exposing itself to those you are talking to,
Infecting them with the same doubts and fears,
Ruining any chance of building bonds and trust…

This is an act far more advanced…
Then any seen on a stage or screen…
The world becomes your eternal stage…
The poker face becomes your eternal mask…

(you can thank my door-to-door selling experience for this terrible poem - however, while it's not the best poem ever written, it gets across what it was like faking a part of your personality and mood whilst trying to sell things to people on their doorstep, and it's an experience I'm glad I got).