We hoist our masks,
Struggling to keep our smiles.
We hold our own hands,
Wanting the affection that proves someone actually cares.
We struggle to live
We struggle to love
We struggle to laugh at ourselves.
We love to fake being fine,
But we don’t really love it,
We do it out of necessity.
We speak, but our words are muffled
by the lies that we tell that make up our mask
That seems to hold up under society’s scrutiny.
How many times have we cried on the inside, wishing for someone to notice? Too many times, it seems to me.