The mask that one presents to the world is not so much a place to hide, but more a fear of whats inside.

Each morning I arise and slip on that suit, what is inside I aim to uproot.

Outsiders see the happy, the cheer, while under that suit is anxiety and fear.

I cannot let them know, they cannot see, I don't understand, why I am so afraid of me.

If  I allow them to see the anxiety and fear, what will they do but laugh and leer?

Inside I am anxious, bubbling up like a storm, inside i am lightning, shocking yet warm.

I would like to let it out, would like them to see, but it is laborious when what is accepted is not what is me.

Anxious inside, yet anxious to pull off the mask, why must this be such a straining task.

Maybe the mask will never be peeled away, stuck on my face covering the me that is a storm ridden and grey.

I hope to one day rid of the mask, although that may be a daunting task.

When the mask is finally able to be expelled, then I will understand why I had dwelled.

Until then I live under this shell, hoping i can pull myself out of this hell.