A Pirouette's Silhouette in the Technicolor Masquerade

Initially, this wasn’t exactly the reality of the story I imagined I would be strolling through.

Madness intertwined in my balance,

   due to the absence

   of the clarity

   I sadly never knew.

 

Submerged within my story

   drips the coffee stains of a constant worry 

   that I won’t be able to carry my own words.

Tucked away amongst these fears

   harbored in a bay of tears

   is the masquerade I’ve made, 

   as I sometimes waltz amidst my faults listening to my treasured records. 

 

Impacted while surrounded by the melody that keeps me on my feet.

Listening to the lyrics composed by someone I’ve never seen in my appearance, yet my thoughts they have complete.

 

Layers upon papers; rhymes and feelings I never spoke.

Faraway

   in the clotted

    grey

      jotted 

       thoughts,

      sometimes astray but it always finds its way,

   I remember I am broke.

 

Imagining I could erase and then replace the haunting flashbacks in my head.

Glossy eyes make for a foggy story, I hate to worry, so I throw it on paper instead.

 

Undoubtedly you see I am not clear on who I want to be.

Riddled in tattered sin, I’ve lost where to begin, it’s a mystery to me.

 

Impolite to interrupt,

   I’m sorry it’s abrupt,

   but I must ask.

Nevertheless,

   now politely I request,

   how often do you take off your mask?

 

Granted I confess of course I linger in my own stressful mess, trying to sway away the grey.

In case the news didn’t get through, someday things will be okay 

                                                                                                                     and it’s okay if it’s not today.

 

The day I get up every morning to find, and always keep in mind when I’m accompanied by 

   emptiness.

Optimist perhaps I am, but while I’m here, 

   past the tears,

   still dancing in my masquerade

   I will keep searching for my

   happiness.

 

Unfortunately, this may not be

   the response you were hoping to receive, 

   but fortunately I reveal I’ve left some signs.

Though hidden you will see if you look closely, I’ve left my answer in these lines.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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