The thousands of masks
I switch out skillfully
For each occasion
Finally come off under the cover of
Night,
Clattering on the floor
Into a pile of varying smiles and guises.
The cold air stings my previously hidden,
Tear-stricken face.
Shadows curl around my masks
And drag them further into
The pit of darkness looming around my bare feet,
Giving me the slightest sense of solace,
Knowing that the dreaded masks no longer
Weigh down and scar my face,
At least until the first rays of sun
Attack my haven yet again.
My head hits the soft pillow,
Already doing wonders to ease the
Ever increasing burden on my
Brittle shoulders
That keeps crippling me.
My eyes droop almost immediately
But offer no relief.
The sleep I yearn for
Stalks closer and closer
But always stays at a taunting distance,
Mocking me for my incompetence and failure
To even sleep.
Even now, away from any judging eyes,
My heart constantly constricts
And pumps Fear,
Feeding anxiety and unease to my entire body
Through my abnormally apparent veins.
My home is hysteria
And to pay the bills and survive,
My job inevitably becomes acting
And oh what I’d give to run.
Run away from it all.
But I am a coward.
For I spend my borrowed time
Worrying about any cracks in my façade
And
Dreaming of fantasies I can’t have,
Instead of simply destroying the masks
That bind me to submission
And standing up for myself
From my kneeling form.
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