I put on The Mask every day,
Before I leave the house.
It covers my eyes in shadow
And hides my mouth behind a smile.

Those who pass me only see The Mask.

Once, The Mask slips,
The corner tilting to reveal
Red scars and blue tears.
My hands fly up to correct it,
Pushing the beautiful white cover
Back in place.
No one notices.

Those who claim to know me only know The Mask.

Sometimes I wear The Mask in my room ,
Where my only companions are the empty chairs and long shadows.
I look in the mirror,
Fingers tracing the fine cheekbones
And eyes fixated upon the eggshell lips,
The upturned smile that I don't understand.

I want to know nothing but The Mask.

Every day The Mask gets heavier,
The frail twine that holds it in place begins to fray.
Soon even The Mask is imperfect.
Cracks are showing like spiderwebs.
The once ghostly white is now yellow and dirty.
I try to rub the imperfections away with my fists
But the smudges only get worse 
And the cracks become deep gouges.

People begin to notice.
They are whispering.
I can hear their voices
Like the sound of crashing hammers.

The Mask shatters.
And I shatter too.