Black Poems

Masquerade

Every morning I get up out of bed

Pee, wash my hands and look up at my reflection

A strange tired looking woman stares back

Her eyes empty and shaded

Her skin grey and flawed

The bright light emphasizing her every imperfection

I smile and try to convince myself that I am fine

But the magic of the words gets less and less

You need to fully believe it for it to work

I never have been much of a believer

Instead of relief the words

Now seem to elicit more of my distress

Leaning forward, I put on some make-up

Trying to make my face less of a sight

No matter how hard I try

Something is missing.

Some part of me seems gone

Somehow I never can get it quite right

There, in front of the mirror

I make sure to put a smile upon my face

And try hard to look sane. Happy. Normal.

But the image I try so carefully to maintain

Drains me from my energy

And pushes me back to an even darker place

Sometimes during the day the mask falls

Revealing my real face to the light

People looked shocked and grab my hand

Ask me what is wrong

And without an answer

They won’t let me out of their sight

At the end of the day when the night falls

I stare again at the woman that looks back at me

Will the mirror ever reflect my old self again?

Instead of this strange zombie woman with glassy eyes?

And if so, please tell me, whenever will that be?