A Glass Eye

Our vanity demands symmetry
By choosing to replace portions
That had once had been tossed
To a deep abyss, so cold and vast
We now worship gods of beauty
Instead of completing the form
Some dither over it, ponder cost
Time and pain completing this task
We get lost in the brooding mire
Not seeing that replacement part
The glass eye became a disguise
Instead of a piece of the puzzle
It is the eye-hole of the mask
Vanity feeds, never grows tired
Our part in the masquerade
We dance and play, hiding
Rather than show our flesh
In the fear of imperfection
Found in our true face