Plaster Face

Folder: 
Self Loathing

Tired of this cover-up life.

The need to be comfortable in my skin.

Wanting a picture perfect world

No satisfaction achievable within.

 

Using a pencil to draw things straight.

Using shadow to demonstrate – my feelings.

 

Tired of this mask that grins

There’s no washing it away I’ve tried.

Hidden beneath the false surface

No transparency visible with eyes.

 

Using a pencil to draw things straight.

Using shadow to demonstrate – my feelings.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My masks of plenty that oddly reflect my emotions I bury within.

sweetwater's picture

Very nice poem, well written,

Very nice poem, well written, a clear picture of inner turmoil. :-)

truthintragedies's picture

Thank you 

Thank you 


**if it's an eye for an eye, then we'll all go blind.**

allets's picture

The Battle of the Beautiful

I love masks, they say so much about suppressing what is inside. We are sieves, semi-permeable membranes - letting out what we deem okay for the external viewer. The truly balanced human has few sieves, has no need for them. Like heaven, for me that is a worthy goal, to be even, just even and not at odds with anything - I will fail, but what's a heaven for? Though provoking writing this - Lady A