Could be merciful
Can be mean
Eventually you may see
The real me.

I hope,
I pray,
That maybe one day
It won’t be the same.

It seemed so simple,
And so fair,
To hide myself under this mask
That will not tear.

It is simple and plain
Without any flare,
It was so helpful then,
But now I’m done.

It made me scared to talk,
If I were to talk,
Someone might hear
And notice me;
Or worse,
No one will hear.

I don’t want only you to see,
I want everyone to see
The real me.

The real me of which I hide
Underneath a mask,
Very quietly,
Trying to disappear,
Trying to blend;
But I’m tired,
I don’t want to try any more.

I take the mask off,
Slowly but surely,
Just like the little train that can.

One day I’ll have it off,
You wait and see.
Then people may see
The real me.

(I hope,
I plea,
That they won’t be as afraid
As I am
Of the real me.)