The Mask

I don’t wear makeup, it’s true.
I won’t cover my face with goo.
It feels weird, and is such a task,
but all the same, I wear a mask.
What I hide behind it is not my face.
Nay, ‘tis my soul, that hidden place.
Underneath, where none can see,
I’ve hidden the real, true me.
Beneath this confident façade
lies a child, scared and afraid;
yet full of wonder, which does leak out
and makes me want to sing and shout.
The world, though scary, is amazing too
Just look around; you’ll see it’s true.
So many things lay there covered,
simply waiting to be discovered.
I want to see, to hear, to touch,
and not be afraid it is too much
to sing, to dance, to fly free;
oh, how wonderful that would be!
But people are watching closely
waiting for a slip up from me,
to pounce, to yell, to show the world
all the mistakes of this little girl.
So I don this mask of stone,
the only face many have known.
And I go through the paces of life,
wanting an end to all this strife.
Someday, I will be brave enough,
to stand there, though life is rough;
and cast down my mask, and watch it break,
never more my life to fake.


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