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My Mask
April 4, 2014
Each morning I open my eyes,
I look in the mirror,
and I put on my mask.
The same smile,
the same happy eyes,
the same deep down pain.
I say to myself,
I’ll take it off,
I never do.
Everyone has told me
laughter is the best medicine,
the cure all.
But then why do I still:
hurt, ache, cry?
I wear the same smile,
and laugh the same laugh, hoping,
that they were right and it will fix me.
Each day I pray,
for the one who will break my mask, my cage,
the one to be my jailbreaker, my angel,
the one who will set the real me free to take off the mask.
© Ashley T., Westport, MA
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