Two masks one may possess,
One over the face and the other over the soul.
My mask has chaffed against me,
Rubbed my emotions raw,
But no-one else may see,
What has made me withdraw.
Beneath this protection is something very human,
A frailty that nothing can defend,
A glass heart that others could lumen,
Had it not been hidden away, never to befriend.
T'is not the mask of a Jester,
It was constructed of despair,
Underneath, I continue to fester,
Further and further into disrepair.
But pity me no longer,
For this Masquerade is at its end,
The mask has slipped, the smile now dies,
Now everyone knows whom they once knew was all lies.
