deepundergroundpoetry.com

Mask in the Trash

Not my normal type of poem. Just something I wrote, may be terrible, but I've made peace with that possibility.

Even if it all ends terribly
I’m going to go out me
Even if that changes day to day

The life you’re trying to give me is not my own
A mask I would wear but if you touch my mask
I won’t feel it. My breathing and seeing restricted

Just so I can be someone else, a mask with a smile
I’m sorry mask, I cannot wear you, it takes out the purpose
If I have to frown, it is my skin that will do it, not plastic

If I have to bleed, it will not be color dye fleeing my wrists
But my blood, coppery, red, runny, and all my own
For your effects will fool no patron of the act, and they will know

If I can live a hundred flawless years in a mask, or fifty in this scarred skin
Then I will welcome each new mark and stain on my flesh
As memories of another day, a happy type of mar, or at least a lesson


If I have to drown in a lake, or wear a suit and never touch the water
Then fish me from the depths, covered in the green of the bottom,
Cold and lifeless, the same me as the mask, a face, but I am not behind it.
Written by Splitmind
Published
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