Beneath my mask hides my pain.
Hides my imperfections,
My insecurities, all my flaws.
Beneath my mask hides my scars.
Hides the self hatred,
My weaknesses, my secret addictions.
My mask is a grin, a smile, a joke.
My mask tricks you into believing I'm fine,
When I wish to just die.
My mask suffocates me.
It makes me look stronger,
When I'm the weakest.
It's a terrible charade.
It's a terrible lie,
But it makes you feel better.
I try to keep it on but it cracks,
Showing the true me,
And I rush to find glue.
I always thought that I was stronger.
But in reality I can barely breath.
The little demons are always finding a way in.
I wonder why they chose me as their prey,
Instead of someone else?
They constantly whisper hurtful things,
And claw their way to me in my sleep.
I am a victim of self hatred.
Never skinny enough,
Smart enough, funny enough
Or strong enough.
I'm tired of fighting this war.
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Comments about this poem (Mask by Mary Gilliam )
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