My Mask
I walk down the hall
I can't help but notice everyone smile at me
I try to return their expression
But I already wear the grin
Just a part of who I've become,
What I look like,
And How I am represented to everyone.
It has become a part of my every day attire,
My mask.
Everyday I wear the same one.
No make up,
It would give away the tears.
Hair pulled up,
So after I binge and need to purge it stays clean.
Loose shirt,
Because it doesn't fit anymore.
Dark jeans,
So no one can see the self inflicted wounds.
And lastly, a smile,
So no one can see my pain.
Comments
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RebeccaYSPerez
It is so difficult to find yourself again behind the mask that you might have built up- whether from pain or because it makes things easier- I hope that you are making the right choices for yourself, and know that you can reach help at any point in time. You are not alone, and while your poem was beautiful and a scary warning of what lays beneath the surface, I am more concerned with the poet. So if I may ask, are better now, than you were when you wrote this poem?
Rebecca