I used to have a happy mask.
It really served me well.
When I was sad and out of touch,
I'd put it on and you could never tell.
It's wide toothed grin and blood shot eyes,
Tried it's best to hold the lies.
But when people began to sense a fake,
The mask began to fold and break.
The pieces fell like broken glass,
Unveiling the true me at last.
Now you all can really see,
That without the mask I cease to be.
Well done Timothy. We all wear them to disguise ourselves and hide behind. But sometimes the real you is better. A good poem. Thank you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Really good, Teej! Maybe my favorite of yours.