My mask

Being alone and often watching the blissful life of others,

you often sit and contemplate,

why am I drowning in my sorrow?

why am I brimming with hate?


Is it because i'm not optimistic?

constantly in doubt of happiness coming my way,

or is it that i'm just the definition of blue,

would others compare me to a rainy day?


I highly doubt anyone would,

I, myself, is not what they see,

they only view the flamboyant and blissful version,

which is what I appear to be.


But when I strip myself of my mask,

I stare at a caged bird,

I stare at envy and jealousy incognito,

I stare at the young women with everything she desires at her fingertips.


Oops! Almost close enough to achieve,

and people ask her why shes depressed,

and people wonder why she cries,

and people ponder on why this joyoius girl is dying on the inside.


They need to recognize or realize that they are viewing real lies,

she is just another face in disguise,

the judgement of others has forced her to hide,

who is really is inside.


All they thought she was,

was a ray of sunshine,

and they were shocked when she left behind,

her mask.


Because under my mask,

I viewed what others couldn't see,

and until I obliterated my mask,

they didn't know the REAL me.


And the day I destroyed my mask?


That was the day I finally became,




Guide that inspired this poem: 


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