I stand tall and strong, but I’m crumbling within my facade.
Nobody sees as each mask I use begins weighing me down,
Nobody sees as my masks get a little more worn,
A little more worn with each and every day.

Finally, unable to hold them all up any longer;
A mask slips and drops,
It falls and drags me with it, leaving me on my knees –
But I’m already pulling another mask into place: Is it too cracked?

The fallen one is cracked, and shifting between my masks
Becomes harder, with every attempt, to repair and keep them –
The cracks still show for those who look, but no one ever does.
Sometimes a dropped mask shatters

And I must create another mask to fill its place,
But it differs from the one replaced, yet still no one sees,
And I am left, still on my knees. All alone, with
The heavy silence pushing in on me and holding me down.

Still on my knees, the ground begins burning but
I cannot stand, and it’s becoming too hard to keep trying.
My masks, facades, shields, begin to blur and entangle,
They’re becoming muddled and I’m unable to shed them even if I wanted to.

I’m still on my knees, faking, even to myself now.
Still on my knees, the silence pushing in on me, the burning pain consuming me,
and I am trapped by the facades I use to bury within.
I am hiding from all, even from myself now.

Where do the masks end?
Where do I begin?
Corlath Corlath
18-21, F
1 Response Jul 19, 2010

YAY!! Thank you. HUGS, lvingwell