it gets so confusing
trying to figure out who you are
as you're force fed spoonfuls of stereotypes
at such a young age

and are isolated because we are different

when people realize it.

 

suffering from the lack of self identity

others place upon us

because of the expected norm
We are taught to hate ourselves
from the lack of positive representation in the media
and if we aren't like those around us
then we are considered different
whether positive or negative
and somewhere along the way we are lost
as to who exactly we are.

 

I look into the mirror wondering
who exactly am I
merging together the layers of my personality
from the small portion of myself I reveal to the
public, to the part of myself that peels
back naturally around my family

there's a boundary withholding me back.
I reach out to the broken half
No one knows the real me
Not one hundred percent never
Not even myself as I wonder

 

Why do our mothers have to comfort us and
try hard to fight our insecurities?

 

You used to be so strong before the mask fell
into your hands
and out of curiosity
No...out of force
You put that mask on, completely in 
awe at how natural it felt
until the point you began believing it
was yourself also.

 

fabrication, a piece of me

lost while searching for

Myself.

 

a faux persona

 

but then

Why are our fathers always absent?

and don’t apologize because

you have one.

 

I always thought that maybe I wouldn't
be this way, if maybe...
Afraid to speak because of judgment
the sound of my voice doesn't match the
color of my skin
they say
and stare at me strangely.
 

the mask itself withholding back my voice
it's not positive
rather reserved and unfeeling
I used to be so happy, so outspoken

 

personal experiences tend to shape us physically,
mentally and emotionally

 

many times we seem okay on the outside
while turmoil hurls around inside our being
walking endlessly on this journey
unsure of it's expiration date
suffocating

 

if I peel back this mask I wonder
what will be there, if anything
will it be Me?

open my mouth to speak and the words are
muddled underneath the acrylic layer
so beautiful and ruffled laces so intricate
but so depressing and oppressing
in the end I stay silent and let
pictures on empty pages do the talking
their desolation like a void
consuming everything I am,
what I used to be
until there's nothing

 

Underneath the mask
so precious, so exquisite
is a bud eagerly waiting for it's day
to bloom
so zealous to outstretch it's petals and
relieve the layers that are
so painfully constricted 

around the shell.

 

I choke on expectation and
vomit up the words held back silently

while I remove the mask and see what's

left of Me.