Welcome To My Masquerade!

It is easy to play pretend in a Kingdom where everyone does so,

Especially when masks are so readily available. Oh!

How beautiful she must be! You see,

There at the top of the stair is she-

Wearing a mask made of silver and gold-

Right next to the man hidden under his own.

Some have masks of colorful green

While others have chosen aquamarine.

The color in your possession

Matters immensely, for each one is a different expression.

For instance, my mask was a gift from a friend,

“You would look pretty in white!” she said.

She was right,

I do look pretty in white.

But, over time, I found that I’m not fond

Of how people talk to me while my mask is on.

Some call me a child, while others treat

Me that way, saying “You’re so sweet,

And innocent! You’re not old enough to hear a grown up’s conversation.”

When I hear such words as these, I want to throw my hands up in frustration

Because I am Seventeen

Going on Eighteen!

Sometimes they say “Look there, at the one in white!

She could never do wrong!” And I have to fight

Back a laugh, as these exaggerations

Become assumed truths and fixations.

To Outsiders, such as yourselves, our Masquerades must seem insane,

And your efforts for us to take off our masks remain in vain.

For, just as we always have, we continue to put on a mask each night-

But that’s only partly why we’ve ignored your foresight.

Choosing, instead, to live under the safety of our masks,

We don’t have to fear others’ judgments from ‘eves past.

At least, that’s what most everyone says. But if that

Were true, how do the handful of you Outsiders, bat 

Away looks of astonishment, disgust, and hostility

With such ease?! After all, you’re the only ones here not hiding your sensitivity.

I try to watch you from the corner of my eye,

But find it is impossible to get a glimpse through the sly

Openings in my white disguise,

So I turn my head to look directly at you- and what I find is a surprise!

For you’re, spinning, whirling, and twirling, throughout the marble hall

Causing silk and lace ruffles to soar and fall.

Your men as captivated by their dance partner’s frills,

As your women are to their prince’s dance skills.

Whooping and hollering-some of you are-

While others stroll beneath the stars.

I have always wondered what it would be like, to be rid of my Masquerade.

To be free in a way I never dreamt I could be- to abandon my charade.