The Mask Slips

it is addressed thusly:
A boding.
it reads:
The mask slips
And in between its rips
Is that an eye we see
Or what else could it be
A face that is not a face
Of the human but a trace
And it is gone in a blink
The mask's bright ink
Down the front it runs, runs
For these are surely Moloch's sons.
a postscript is here written:

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