Like Frosted Glass

Some call hidding ones true self a mask

but reality is not that simple

"mask" is just an icon, a symbol

removing it a futile task

truth becomes cloudy like frosted glass flask

lies eat the truth which begin to crimpple

my once bright self becomes a distant twinkle

I've lost myself and become the mask

lost isn't final, the mask is broken

the fire rekindled, the heart warmed

through friends & mentors myself is reborn

truth is given, my thoughts can be spoken

smiles are shared, no longer conformed

my regret for the mask, a constant thorn.