Masks

I wake up every morning

before the world has seen dawn.

The first thing that I do

is find my masks and put them on.

I start with one for family.

This is one I’m loathe to wear,

but I slip it on over my face.

A face they don’t know is there.

My family sees perfection in

a child who always obeys.

A girl of kindness, intelligence, honesty,

the child that never goes astray.

Before going to school, I slip away

and I cover up again

with a new mask, this one for school.

‘Tis the face seen by my friends.

They see an average teen

intelligent, but quiet at times.

Funny on occasion, loyal to a fault.

Surely a mask like that is no crime.

I spend my time throughout the day

showing others who I’m not.

But I wonder sometimes when I’m alone,

what would happen if I was caught?

What if they saw me as I am?

What if I saw me as I am?

What if it was too much to handle?

What if I found out I can?

What would happen if I showed myself?

Would I finally learn who that is?

Am I defined by what I do alone?

Or is who I am not more than this?

Am I the girl in the shell?

Am I the perfection my family sees?

Am I kind, intelligent, honest?

Am I who I want to be?

Is who I am seen in my actions

or is it seen in my words?

Can I find it by watching my friends

or will I find it by judging my work?

I don’t think I know myself well,

but I believe that girl is in me somewhere.

Maybe her masks are clues to finding her,

like bread crumbs trying to get me there.

Have you seen the girl without the masks?

Do you know what she looks like then?

‘Tis something I wish I could see,

but how would I feel in the end?