this Face

i think i'm looking at my face. a flat picture of it. i see years of faces layered onto it like her face his face their faces. i don't think they care. i care. this isn't their face. not anymore. they have left it. its so alien to them now. it never was a face they recognized. they slipped away underneath it. ignorant to its surface, and its emotion. they left it there. then they talked about going away. away up high on a mountain somewhere. but that somewhere he'd always say was Venezuela. but he never did any of it. other than build a house on a high mountain and it caused all sorts of trouble. they found a bronze madonna relief in the soil where this house stands, because there used to be a church there. all the symbols he created in his head, he attempted to materialize. materialize, thats the problem. its all gone. all of the symbols. they matter to no one anymore. they brought no hope, nor did they bring happiness or even just a steady life. now the years have gone by Gone. meaning there are none anymore. so this face.. who's face is it anyway?