Removing The Mask

If life is a stage then I must be

an imperfect actor in the theatre.

My mask slipping more and more.

Each performance reveals more

what is hidden, less what is found.

Many a word, tainted by lies

becomes truth to the ears,

remains false to the heart.

Those beautiful truths

whispered in shadows

to an unsuspecting confidant.

A shallow breath held

waiting shaky for their reaction,

biting lips, holding back

the panicked urge to run,

sprint, escape the

bitter, unrelenting scrutiny

expecting a sharp, unforgiving remark.

I am bewildered and amazed

by the soothing tone of

your merciful, gentle assurance

that you are forevermore, my ally,

that I am not isolated.

I have brothers and sisters in arms

fighting for humanity, compassion

and the right to be who we are

instead of who they want us to be.

I can remove my disguise with pride

with the knowledge that I

have your unconditional support,

to be the fantastical, quirky,

freaky, somebody that is me.