schism of the twofaced

Your symetrical but impossible to balance. Walk, routed to four legs like your God, but you conceal too much hidden inside to run a length short of many miles. Your necks fused, lined with a fringe that ripples as easily as the flesh of your false body in the slightest wind. At the base of your split, you falsely color your skin with a mask of comfort, whole when your mouth closes. But when you speak your roar, you intentionally reveal the falsehood of that mask-mimicked. You roar a truth as your true faces emerge, with a mask of pain, prominently looking forward... it is balanced with a mask of pride... of comfort... a set up you speak to those who can hear the words when you feel necessary to speak. You act secretive, but not sinister.