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The mask
January 28, 2011
I am pretty, smart, and seem like I have it all
to everyone but myself.
They only see the mask
covering my tears.
They don't see the pain,
the sorrow,
or the terrors
that haunt my sleep.
They don't see how every word,
expression,
or action
cuts me into ribbons.
They don't see how I want to end it,
just get all my problems taken care of,
in any way possible.
Even if that means ending my life.
I want to take off the mask,
I want them to see my tears,
but now they won't even open their eyes.
© Brooke W., Weston, MA
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