Painting a mask

If I were to walk outside,
Who would I see?
Should I hide inside?
What will become of me?
(Who gives an actual damn about me?)

If I were to scream at the top of my voice,
"I'M RIGHT HERE!"
Would anyone notice my fear?
Would anyone value me if I made a choice?
(here come the demons again...)

Mouth wide open,
Eyes clenched shut,
Fists balled up,
I scream just to feel better.
Does it work? Not really,
(they wash over me...)

Like a spark to a barrel of gunpowder and C4,
My whole body blasts off into oblivion.

Anger and agony erupt into fury and hatred,
I rip at the shelves and destroy the bed.
I swipe off every picture and memory,
Each depicting my "perfect history".

I tear at my hair and shout to the heavens,
Why don't I get an answer?
Then I realize,
It's because I brought it upon myself.
(breathe slower and slower)

I'll be gone for a while,
Not a soul will see,
What has become of the true me.

I'll just paint a mask,
Upon my face.
No one will know me,
Unless they look behind it.
(No one has ever tried, why would they start now?)