A mask that everyone could see Something to hide behind A “shield” for me
It stung like needles Burned like a brand This mask placed by a hollow hand
I could never be rid of it Never just be free For what would my family think of me
It took a push from someone A helpful hand To finally remove that burning brand
They helped me take off the mask Saw what was inside And accepted me as I sat there and cried
They gave me a space A place to be free Until I was able to finally be me
I went to see my family Without the mask, in open air I steeled myself to be prepared
But instead of yelling Of bitter frost I found that my hope was not lost
I met with acceptance Knowing care A hearth’s warmth and gentle air
One day I left the mask behind Not just for that day, but for all time The burning brand, the stinging mark Left in that closet in the dark
I wrote this about my experience coming out as well as the dysphoria I experienced (and still do experience). I've been out for a few years now, but I wanted to write this. This is my first published poem on here. I hope that you all enjoy.