February 6, 2012
By HelenaSh SILVER, New York, New York
HelenaSh SILVER, New York, New York
5 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Somewhere underneath it all is the truth

Untainted by the layers of grease we slather on
Until we look like the faces in the sky.
Untouched by the fire and smoke that seeps
Down our throats and into our lungs.

Unscathed by the words coughed up and
Swallowed down that rake at our vocal chords.
Unbound by the expectant eyes
That pierce our skin from every direction.

Unseen under the masks we tiredly hold up
Each a false smile made of porcelain.
Somewhere underneath it all is the truth.

And there it lays hidden from the world;
Wise and childish
Brave and timid
A pure being of energy waiting in slumber.

It will unfurl sometimes,
Reaching, convulsing, twisting
Growing like vines through our being
Filling every corner of our existence until

We wipe away the grease,
Extinguish the fire,
Breath out the smoke
And heal our bleeding vocal chords

Until we will close our eyes
To the expectations of others and
Let our hands drop from our face
And let our masks clatter to the ground

But then, as quickly as it came
It is gone
The cruel world would kill it,
Strike it dead if it had the chance

And we will cower like wounded animals until
We look like the faces in the sky,
Fill our throats and lungs with ash
And vomit up words until we cannot speak

We will tremble once again under the eyes of others.
And we will scramble across the porcelain floor
To find our masks, hoping they haven’t shattered.
But still, somewhere underneath it all is the truth.

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