It picks me up when I'm stuck feeling down
Conscripts my lips to smile
And relieves my mug of frown

Peps up the steps and moves my heart to pound
If I did not know better
I'd say my true love I've found

There
   are worries
           on my mind

                                 While I lie
                                           in my sheets

                                                     Mapping out
                                            my
                            eyelids

And
             dreaming
                                          of
                                                              sleep

To hide one's self; not an idea so mind-boggling.
Though detailed, the mask belies the heart's sand-boxing,
"Immune to all toxins projected in offense".
It's nonsense, but needed for all that it off-sets.

It's hard to find strength in a world that won't want it
And, yet, harder still to sincerely be honest.
Self-critical composure of mine, as promised,
Lives effortlessly on; though hidden, undaunted.

Please excuse me for choosing words plainly unclear;
I am both a survivor and victim of fear.