My Mask

--My Mask--

Some never want to see the pain,
The hurt that flows within the heart.
Denying these with harm and bruise,
Alone with their suffering thoughts.

So a mask is worn by those ignored,
Shining, so clean and joyous.
But despite this mask’s beauty and joy,
It suffocates the one who wears it.

Tight, constricting, hard to breathe,
In public we wear to hide the shame.
The swelling of sickness in our hearts,
Presses sorely against restraints.

Taught to stand alone so early,
Our trust is shattered on the floor.
We ache to find those with love,
But a sea of masks awaits instead.

“I’m fine. I’m alright. Nothing is the matter.”.
Filthy lies spoken for us by the shiny mask.
To scream internal, eternal, unheard,
The mask replaces who we are.

But cracks appear, the shine dulls,
we fight a war longstanding.
We rage against the bonds on us,
Struggling to keep breathing.

And then, alone, the cruel mask loosens,
It shatters on the floor in shards.
And pain repressed, tears kept hidden,
Surge forth as we collapse.

The wounds we see are ghostly,
but there even if unseen,
And grievous to such a frightening point,
We plead for death in us to rest.

But still we fight, and still we go,
Placing new masks on each day.
Ignoring the sorrow within our souls,
Just to keep moving, just to keep going.

Perhaps, I pray, I’ll find others,
Whose masks have begun to falter.
To see and feel the hurt within,
And know alone I am no longer.

We wear masks to hide our pain,
because others mock our wounds.
But when we wear that prison outside,
True comfort from others can’t be found.

So I pray, so dearly, that one day,
We can tear off the false image.
Expose not only our aches held there,
But our hearts for each other to find.