Somewhere,
sometime,
we learn the subtle art of disguise.
Slowly we layer our hearts so that they are nearly suffocated.
Systematically we wrap ourselves in exteriors which are
cool or hip,
nonchalant or insignificant,
bumptious or delicate.

But not really.
The only reason no one around us notices our horns,
is that they too are caught up in concealing their own sheepish faces.

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