THE POETRY ARCHIVE

MY MASK

I wear my mask,

Like my skin,

It has always been a part of me.

It protects me from the world,

Of harsh words,

And disgusted faces.

It comforts me in a way.

And all of those things,

I call,

Imperfections,

Are safely kept warm,

Under this blanket...

Of defence.

I wear my mask,

Like my glasses.

Now I can see clearly,

Whilst protecting my eyes.

Those,

Green eyes...

They've seen,

So much.

Oh...

So much.

They've seen:

The good,

The bad,

And most certainly...

The ugly.

They've seen it all,

In both people,

And the reflection in the mirror...

"Wow..."

"You look... different."

I wear my mask,

But I never take it off.

Nobody wants to see,

What lies underneath.

Not even myself...

Nobody wanted to see,

All of the hidden:

Anger,

Sadness,

And desperation,

Of wanting to be accepted,

By everyone else.

"But they look so perfect."

"No they're not and neither are you."

"Put your mask back on."

I wear my mask,

Not my identity.

Just the mask,

So don't try to think beyond that.