Without My Mask
Location
What am I without my mask,
My rod, my scepter, my queenly throne?
I do not know, why don't we ask
The great unknown?
I lived my days behind a funhouse mirror
For so long I can no longer see
If my image has grown queerer
From this personality of an absentee.
But how do I define myself?
What am I when it's stripped away?
Am I bold and brave as the day
Or do I sit quietly on my own shelf?
I am not loud, nor am I proud
I know that much at least.
So do I sit quietly, a tamed beast?
No, I do not.
I may be quiet,
But do not think me tame.
You may not be able to spy it
But I am actually aflame
With a burning inner passon
I built in my own fashion.
Behind my mask I am me
And me I shall remain
After all where would I be
If I could not lay that claim?
So tell me what am I?