My Mask

All I am is not all that you see.

Days like today, I feel like a mere mist

In the midst of a vague existence.

Days like today, I feel retained

In a cell with a knob-lacking door

While you dance on clear, summer air.

So steady was my hand as I

Painted the mask that your eyes dissect.

So I hide behind this charade.

I pretend to be a plane

When I am only a bird,

Because I couldn't fly high enough

To please you.

Reviews

[Joshua Donahue]

i really enjoyed this piece! great write!