It is all turning grey, it is Losing its colour Losing the semblance, The identity Turning out to be Something else entirely Every inch transforming A change so rapid If not seen, won't believe it It is as if nothing is real We have been seeing the masks The truth is, is very dark.
My wardrobe does not contain pretty dresses or cosy jumpers My wardrobe is not where I go to smell fresh cotton or to hang up my coat after a walk in the rain My wardobe is where I find my fraying armour at 6am it is where I pick my favourite mask any mask to hide my truth I pick the mask with cherub cheeks and eyes that light the room i pick the mask that cloaks my sodden cheeks and tie is thrice around my face Drilling nails down into my skull dare it not slip away My wardrobe does not contain pretty dresses or cosy jumpers It holds everything I hide and bury deep and safe inside.
I used to get very annoyed with my mask each day I’d implore, “Is it too much to ask - that my glasses don’t steam up when I walk in a shop or to not have to swallow down buckets of snot?” But lately my viewpoint has started to waiver as I discover new uses for this multi-lifesaver like wiping the grit from my spectacle lenses or warming my beard when I’m out mending fences.
Then there are subtler means of employ (I’m not talking about some ***** *** toy) where this sliver of material, though appearing unmanly, has proven itself surprisingly handy. Only last week, on a long evening walk I crept into a church round the back of Earls Court and sat down to the tones of an ***** concerto that whirled within me like Dante’s Inferno. Out of the blue I began to cry emotions stuffed deep inside reached for the sky, streams gushed forth from each quivering eye lid I’d not wept so fiercely since being a kid yet though it did not cover the whole of my face with my mask pulled high I was at least, saved some disgrace.
When this is all over (I promise it will) hold a thought for how your mask did fulfill so many functions, besides helping you survive and perhaps carry one in your pocket to keep the memory alive.