|
|
|
|
Everyone has a mask
It blocks the view of what is real
What is happiness…?
What is the self…?
Mine is my sanctuary
My mask, comes out when I am surrounded
With those consumed with idol talk
Pointless chatter of material things
Disguising their envy of others with words tainted in scrutiny
Sometimes we all hide behind a mask
Mine makes me quiet and neutral
I am not perfect
I am guilty of the very thing I despise
I try to shield myself from the feeding frenzy
Gossip, lies, hurtful words
But when I feel safe I take mine off and lock in a box
Just when I need it
Sanctuary for one
Permanent residence for another
But does this permanent residence show a fake person
What does it do for oneself?
Does it consume oneself?
Does this thing called “you” come alive?
Or does it hide all the time?
Hide your emotions?
Hide what you truly think?
A permanent residence…
A dangerous mask…
A mask that consumes a life
Never showing the person underneath
It is not a sanctuary like mine
It is a home
But is this home comfortable?
My sanctuary is
My mask is….
This is mine, fuck you.
|
|
|
|
