Oh Mask, my dear Mask, you hide away so they can't see

who I am, who I was, or who I hope to be.

You cover up my dreams, my fears, and my reality,

you tell my wounds to heal instead of letting them all bleed.

You take my face and turn it to a hard and plastic mold,

on the outside I am young, but on the inside, I am old.

My mask, it holds me like the paper cover on a book,

it disguises my true story until you take a closer look.

My mask is a collection of things, some are truths, some lies,

but if you want to see beneath, my story is within my eyes.