The Iron Mask

Fri, 08/29/2014 - 17:57 -- Jay_M

*try reading with and without the bracketed lines


I sit beneath an iron mask

(It's one of my own making)

No one's set me to this task

(It's just to hide my shaking)


It does not hurt to wear at all

(Well, maybe just a little)

I have not tried to make it fall

(But it is strangely brittle)


It does not bend, nor break a bit

(Though I sometimes wish it would)

Everyone can see it fits

(At least the way they think it should)


My emotions act accordingly

(I play them up and down at will)

To the setting that I see

(I've played the part, I know the drill)


Sister, daughter, student, friend

(I wish to tear it from my face)

A face worn for a certain end

(It keeps me frozen in my place)


A simple mask, a plain facade

(Can’t you tell this isn’t me?)

Yet not a bit of it is flawed

(Except the flaws that fit so cleanly)


I do not want to take it off

(It keeps me whole, it keeps me safe)

And if found without, some would scoff

(Though its constriction makes me chafe)


I don’t need anyone to see

(I wish I didn’t need this fake)

The outward face just isn't me

(Though it is of my own make)


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