melancholy ;; poems & shit

The Mask

The Mask

I'm great, fine, spectacular. In a way

I relish every night, and I live every day.

I live, I laugh, I write, I sing,

I wonder what the new days will bring.

Then I get home, and I take off the mask.

The day, and almost impossible task,

Is finally over, and so I lie Down,

and wait patiently for the day that I die.

I cry, I scream, I bawl, and sleep,

even though I have promises to keep.

I wait, and wonder, and cry some more,

And I ache and burn from my very core.

Then, I'm not alone, and the mask reappears:

Out goes the grief, pain and all of the tears,

As I am a happy person, cheerful all the day.

A world full of rainbow, not one shade of grey.

Of course I'm not okay, I'm not fine,

No matter how much I seem to shine.

I don't even know why I feel this...

Why my existence is one long, endless abyss.

But it is, and will be, so I cling to life,

As one day I might slip, and end it with a knife.

But, I'm still here, no matter what my dreams might say

And I hope that one day I will actually be okay.