The Mask

Musings of a hidden persona...

I wear a blank porcelain mask of beauty and distress

You interpret it the way you want   

It doesn't make a difference

I know what hides behind the facade

And I dare you to try to figure it out

My mask is a disguise

I wear it so that people do not have to see what they can not understand 

To some, my mask it happy or confident, or innocent

Never is it lonely, or sad, or hurt

But that's the point of the mask; others can view the face that they want without revealing the face that lurks behind it

My mask is cracked

Every so often it's prisoner gets through the space where rugged edge meets harsh air

And it is exposed to the world which makes it cower and retreat back to the safety of the mask

But the safety is false and the mask is a time bomb

Just waiting for the right - or wrong - moment to explode

And you better watch out

Because my mask will have enough broken shards to cut through the illusion

And destroy everything in its path

Author's Note

I hope this means something to someone

Reviews

[JC]

This reminds me of French existentialists, in particular Sartre when he sat in a cafe watching the people around him as if they were part of a play being put on for him alone, that theater of life and how we go through the motions and hide who we are and how we feel, giving most social interaction a falseness that can be unbearable. I like the flow of this and the brute honesty.