They say masks are just for masquerade balls;
Feathered, coloured and encrusted with jewels.
But the most common mask in reality is skin;
Foundation soaked deep into our pores and lips stained from cheap gin.
Scrubbing and scrubbing at our reflection;
But we cannot erase our complexion.
Our flaws lie beneath the mask, covered up and buried in black.
Changing everything about ourselves until it is only personality we lack.
A symmetrical face, skinny and tall,
Long blonde hair, latest clothes, why does this matter at all?
Take off the real mask, don't let it be your downfall.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Mentally Insane
PoetryPoetry is the writing of our deepest, darkest, most inner thoughts. When speaking isn't enough and your voice falls upon deaf ears, writing is our only refuge. Join me and experience the workings of my mind in my collection of original poems. (Credi...
