Masquerade
It’s a life well faked.
Fake smiles? Abundant.
And that sickly feeling,
It comes and goes in harsh,
Revolting, battering waves.
Such a mix of sadness and
Pure failure and guilt are
All that my life has become.
Such a blunt knife is that
Which slowly carves at my life.
Functionality of my life is still
At optimal levels, yet why live
When there’s no joy?
My life is the scarred, pitted face
Under the beautiful mask
of a masquerade.
It’s a facade, hiding nothing beneath.
I have told lies.
My true self is a hollow being.
I am stone.
Taking the beatings of life, yet
Continuously persevering.
But why should anyone care.
No one asks if I’m “okay.”
I silently despise all I am,
Being that I am nothing.
All these tears mean nothing,
For they make no sound in
Such an empty room.
The more important question
Is if you are happy.
I’ve torn myself apart, only for
You to have a simple smile.
I ravaged my heart for you light.
I hope you’re happy. But this,
This mask beneath which I hide,
This mask of a smile, it’s all I have.
To it I have pasted my broken heart,
Holding me together.
I am but a mask, a hollow, pure stone.
