My Mask
My mask is beautiful
Elaborate
Embroidered with purple and gold
Whenever people see me wearing my mask
They call me beautiful.
My mask is perfect
My mask shows everyone what they want to see
I get loads of:
“She’s so pretty.”
“She’s great.”
“She’s happy.”
“She’s smart.”
Yet, masks are fake
My mask isn’t me
My mask is deceptive
Everything about my mask is fake
And disgusting.
Every time I wear it
I feel gross
And deceitful.
My mask isn’t beautiful
It’s ugly
The real me is hidden behind worthless plastic
And I hate it.
I want to destroy my mask
And be truly seen for once
But every time I try to take it off
Or if there is the slightest chip in my mask
Everyone turns on me.
Or worse, they ignore the real me
They refer to me as my mask
And ignore who I am underneath.
They call me a different person
They tell me I’m tricking them
Or mocking others like me.
They gaslight me into pretending to be her
And when I scream
No one hears me
My mask muffles my cries for help.
I can’t ever take my mask off
I wear it to bed every night
If I ever take it off, I’ll suffer
But when I leave it on, I still suffer.
My mask is a young girl
A young girl who is long gone
She died so many years ago
Yet, people think I’m that girl
And force me to live her life.
I will never be happy
As long as people remember her.
