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Aug 2020
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.
Jamie Frederick
Written by
Jamie Frederick  25/Agender/Denver
(25/Agender/Denver)   
639
   Eman
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