The Mask

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The fictitious smile
The cheerful laughter
The pleasant greetings.
Are all deceived you see.
My calm quiteness, hides all that I compose from my woes.
How are you doing today?
I ask not that I really care.
Ploting against on the inside.
I act nice as someone who you think is nice.
I didn’t even try to say that nicely.
My mask must be slipping.
Or cracking.
I may not be able to keep this facade up for much longer.
I am the devil in white.
Or so I was once told.
By a wise man up north.
“You are the devil, real as can be.
Cheer up honey, it’s sunny show them teeth.
Be nice as you can be, so no-one can see. Be all you can be by this if not…
Just flee.”
Who knew I would fall in love with the first devil?
His words still echo into my ears.
Or maybe it’s just the voices I hear?
Please God if you can hear me shoot me.
I’m just kidding.
I am just a loon.
Trapped in a cocoon.
Trying to hide my disturbing personality.

6 thoughts on “The Mask

  1. Hey, I just wanted to say that I really like this. I have a poetry section on my blog… mybipolarmind.com. Would it be okay if I reblogged this and added to my site? If not, that’s okay too. ๐Ÿ™‚ Thanks!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’m sorry for my ignorance because I have not gone that far back in your blog, but who died and why do you feel responsible? Why do you hate yourself? I have enjoyed your pain that you have put into the public setting, not in a sadistic way, but in the raw way you put yourself out there. I find you to possibly be a kindred spirit. I hope this doesn’t come off weird, I love social media, but when you just have words on a screen you have no inflection or facial cues to gauge how something is said or perceived so it makes it tough. I ramble, I bounce back and forth between what I write,
    and how I think it will be perceived….write,read,change wording, read …rinse, wash, repeat. I wish I could just say “Hey, your poetry is wicked and speaks to me”, and just leave it at that, but I always feel I have to justify what I say. Ramble ramble, night night~

    Like

    1. I do not hate myself. I can see why it would come across that way. I like to write about dark disturbing poetry. In the way that is filled with raw emotions. That deal with human pain on addiction, mental illness, death, and other things that come to mind. Somethimes I will write lighter things, but mostly I stick to the other stuff.

      Like

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