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It's Still There

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Another day, another class.
I can’t handle this difficult class anymore.
There’s something on my hand
I have to get it out, it’s bothering me.
How can I get through this class if it’s still there?

Oh great, there’s some speck in my hair
I have to get it out right now,
Along with several hideous hair strands.
I can’t concentrate if there’s something wrong with my hair.
I can’t live life as a hideous girl with disgusting hair.

I know the professor is saying something important
Did he say something about the upcoming exam?
My pen and listening ears have become irrelevant.
My hands have a more important job to do.
And it has to get done right now.

Is class already over?
I’m not finished fixing my skin and hair.
I see people getting up and leaving early.
I only see one thing aside from my class notes.
And it’s a tiny mountain of everything I took out.

And I realize there’s a river flowing down my face.


I must not let anyone see.
I must not take off this mask.
I must leave class now.

It’s after class and I need to go to the restroom.
I suddenly find myself being whisked away.
A classmate pulls me to some center on campus.
I have to fill out paperwork and wait to be called.
But who is going to listen to me at last?

I hear my name called out.
Out comes a person clad in white with a clipboard.
My mask has crumbled, but it’s still there.




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