My mask is more like makeup.
I don't hide behind an imitation, there is no shell.
I hide the blemishes, blend them into
the background. I love to win, but no one
sees how much I hate to lose.
I'm self destructive in the wake of a loss.
I tear myself down; I'm weak, I'm feeble, I'm a failure.
I look in the mirror and see shoulders that
aren't big enough, legs that aren't
muscular enough, a body that's not tall enough.
I work out unti I feel adequate.
I make jokes to cover up my insecurities,
to hide my displeasure with my build.
I act tough to make up for what I want, but lack.
But like makeup, some of what is seen is real.
I'm truely a joker by nature,
I love to make friends laugh. I'm in no way a
weak person, by default I'm tough like leather.
Sometimes though, I joke a little louder, I
hit a little harder until the traits I detest fade
into the background, blending among the traits I love,