My Closet

Second poem in the set...

My Closet

I open the closet door
And strewn upon the floor,
Are all the masks I wore
Each a piece of me from before.

I look among the racks
And amid all the second hand, first hand, useless things,
I can retrace my tracks
And the memory still stings

I look up more, and straight.
There's a mirror there.
Standing open, like a gate.
Showing eyes, nose, and hair.

But is that's what is truly, truly there?

I hear crackling behind...
My house is burning
The fire's light blinds.
I gather the masks

I remove the mirror
Into the Inferno I go!

These pasts and this present I see,
They might mean nothing to me!
With this flame, I shall destroy
But only to melt, mold, and reform.

Reviews

[Ash.]

This has to be one of the strongest pieces of writing I have ever read.
You talking about the masks of your past is so chilling and real.
Amazing, amazing, amazing!