Whispers of the Soul

Personality Disorder

Masks I Wear

In the quiet of dawn, when the world is still,
I stand before mirrors, my heartbeats a thrill.
Each reflection I see is a face I create,
A myriad of masks that I shape to relate.

First comes the smile, bright and wide,
A mask of delight where my worries can hide.
With laughter like sunshine, I dance through the day,
Yet underneath, there's a storm in disarray.

Next, a mask cloaked in shadows and doubt,
A whispering voice that casts hope out.
I wear it in silence, as fears start to swell,
A portrait of someone lost deep in a shell.

Then comes the bravado, a shield made of pride,
With bravura I walk, my true self denied.
The bravest of faces, so bold and so strong,
But beneath lies the truth—a heart that feels wrong.

Each mask tells a story, a fragment of me,
An actor on stages where no one can see.
In conversations I twist, adapt, and rearrange,
Like a chameleon, lost in a world full of change.

There's the mask of the nurturer, tender and kind,
The one that holds others, yet leaves self behind.
In caring for strangers, I forget my own needs,
Planting love in the soil where my own heart now bleeds.

But in the stillness of night, when the echoes grow faint,
I shed all the layers, the facade of the saint.
The masks fall away, and I'm left standing bare,
Confronting the shadows that linger in air.

Who am I beneath all these layers of guise?
A mosaic of fragments, a soul in disguise.
The beauty of truth is both daunting and bright,
To embrace all my colors, to step into light.

So here I am, learning to honor each face,
To accept all the pieces that time can't erase.
For the masks that I wear do not define who I am,
They're whispers of journeys, each breath a new plan.

With courage, I'll gather the threads of my tale,
A tapestry woven with love that won't pale.
For every mask carries lessons and scars,
And I'll wear them with pride, like the night wears the stars.