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By: Jon Reene

A poem should be equal to what I find engaging

the way the scene keeps shifting around

The first couple stanzas thrown down

For all of a sudden the iron mask represents

The barrier between the author and me

distorting reason from my intrigued mind

Deeper and deep er I search for meaning

immediately the poem embraces my kind

giving me dreams of this very clear picture

The sands of time now run out on class

as my image of this poem shatters like glass

There is little doubt, however, that

his name preyed upon his mind.