The Mask I Wear

Published on: 16 Jun 2025

There is a series of masks

That I have carefully stitched—

Maybe just to feel included,

For everyone to like me.
 

It feels heavy to wear them,

But the weight helps me:

It presses down my real self,

Restraining my unfiltered being from slipping out.

When the noise fades,

My bare essence complains:

“Why did I wear the mask

From dawn till dusk?”

Howling in the end,

Longing for love—

Love not for the mask I wear,

But for the soul beneath the surface.

In the quiet, I yearn

To strip away the smile stitched to me.

Even now, I hold the ache:

Maybe one day, I will set myself free.