The Mask Falls

When it slips,

And you see me,

What do you see?

The truth,

Unvarnished,

Exposed,

Naked and afraid.

Being me,

Whoever I am,

Feeling lost,

Submerged beneath layers,

Of face paint,

Or brittle, delicate ceramic,

Or is my mask,

Surgical in nature,

Another faceless clone,

Stalking strange streets.

My mask is tight,

Too tight,

Stuck,

Painful,

Rubbed raw skin beneath.

Identity,

Once so certain,

Now bits and pieces,

I see myself,

Through broken mirror,

A thousand images,

Which is me?.

Different masks,

Different days,

Hiding the truth,

From me,

From you,

From the world.

My mask slips,

You see it,

You rush forward,

Thrust it back into place,

Fearful,

Unable to cope,

Not wanting to see me,

The real me.

My mask slips,

I will it to fall,

I tear at it with bloody fingers,

I drag it from me,

Tearing at my skin,

But it holds fast.

It cannot slip, not now,

For you fear to see what lies beneath,

You fear me,

As I fear myself.

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