Pamela Plachno


My Masquerade. - Poem by Pamela Plachno

It’s funny how one can be
Hidden behind a mask.
Looking through the two eyeholes,
Camouflaged like a chameleon.
Hidden within a crowd.


Like the phantom and his opera,
Deformed, but not of his face.
But rather of his nature
Attitude, personality, and mind.
Corrupted in thought.
Hidden behind his mask.


I am the phantom.
The world is my opera.
Hidden behind the walls,
Leaving nothing, but glimpses of shadows.
Shame behind this mask.


But wrong I did not commit.
But sinful nature I did not choose.
But myself I cannot yield.

I am.
Just am.
Truth hidden behind the mask.


Breaking.
Crumbling.
I can finally feel the fresh air.
True face I’m beginning to reveal.
Mask, almost falling.

But no.

I keep myself from exposure,
I hold onto the mask a bit longer,
Picking up the falling pieces,
Putting it back together.
Again.
Again.
Again.

Ma sk, reconstructing what I want to break.


Until then,
I keep this face.
What everyone’s familiar with.
What everyone’s used to.
What everyone expects of me.


This,
I keep my false nature,
Until I found the day I free myself.

This,
I keep hidden,
From everyone’s stare, disgust, and insults.

This,
I hide,
Hidden behind the overused, weary mask.

This,
I am sick of it.
I’m suffocating, seeking air.

I want out.
I want out.
I want out.

Until then,
I keep wearing my mask,
Since everyday’s
My masquerade.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, December 3, 2009



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