I have worn a mask for so long,
that I feel naked and vulnerable without it.

My smile was plastered on my face;
without it, my sorrow would seep
through the cracks in my skin.

My fears slinked through
my optimism and resolve.

If you look real hard,
you might see something dark
and ugly inside.

It’s not so much that I am hiding,
as it is a means of self-protection.

My insecurities are slivers
just under the surface; I might not
measure up to your expectations.

My heart has begun to mend,
but the scars are still sensitive.

My soul has flown free,
more so in the past few years,
than for my whole life.

By habit, it still wants to
tuck itself away, in safety;
the new-life smell is still scary.

Happiness is hard to trust–
it has fooled me many times.

Letting go
is more difficult than hanging on.
The mask has been my security blanket.


6 thoughts on “The Mask

  1. I think we are given the mask. It is like our names, at first we have no say, but over time we appreciate what it is that helped shape us into that existence. And as we get wiser with time we began to understand that the mask may not be who we are, but more who people think we are…….great piece!! I enjoyed it. Thank you.

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